A Light in the Darkness: Unveiled
by LadyAlambiel
Summary: A sorcerer challenged by Aslan. Love and friendship alike are tested by his presence. And the Gentle Queen faces her own challenge when the sorcerer's true colors are unveiled.
1. Chapter One: The Blinding

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: A sorcerer challenged by Aslan. Love and friendship alike are tested by his presence. And the Gentle Queen faces her own challenge when the sorcerer's true colors are unveiled.

A/N: If you have not read the first eight stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc (_Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, and Veiled_), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

_What's Gone on Before_

Shot entering a courthouse in our world, a stranger comes to Narnia one year into the Pevensies' reign. This stranger, Katerina Alambiel, gains the trust of young Queen Lucy even though others suspect she might be a witch. Still, she is allowed to remain in Cair Paravel as a guest. Oreius begins to earn her trust as she earns his. When the evil sorcerer, Jannes, takes Lucy, Katerina Alambiel is accused of being an accomplice even as she crafts a plan to rescue the Valiant Queen. Infiltrating the sorcerer's lair, Katerina Alambiel leaves a trail for Oreius and the Kings allowing them to rescue Lucy. Katerina Alambiel pursues and kills Jannes with Oreius' aid (Full story: _Awakened_).

After six months of finding a niche in the daily life and routine of Cair Paravel (Full story: _Shields_), Katerina Alambiel is counted as a friend rather than a guest by the Four and by General Oreius. She accompanies High King Peter and Queen Susan on a trip, unaware that another sorcerer intends to frame her as the High King's assassin. Just before parting ways with Susan, dark secrets in Katerina Alambiel's past are revealed. A pair of assassins frames Katerina Alambiel in two attacks on the High King's life before she and a badly wounded Peter are captured by the sorcerer, Jambres. As he tortures them, Jambres reveals that Katerina Alambiel is part Human and part Narnian. Katerina Alambiel interferes with Jambres' attempt to kill Peter, taking the brunt of the spell herself before Oreius and the other Narnians rescue them. Aslan confirms to Katerina Alambiel that she is both Human and Narnian, and that her Narnian heritage is that of Nymph and Centaur due to her mother being the Nymph daughter of a Centaur, before charging her with the task of searching for the identity of her birth family, thereby unlocking the forgotten memories of her early childhood. Katerina Alambiel survives the spell with the addition of two white streaks in the front of her hair as souvenirs and Peter decides to knight her into his chivalric order for her actions (Full story: _Shadowed_).

Two years after being knighted Dame Sepphora of the Most Noble Order of the Lion, Katerina Alambiel is nearing the end of her search for the identity of her Narnian birth family. While her long-forgotten memories begin to resurface, she runs afoul of Count Hendrik of Sisemaal, one of Narnia's allies. Afterwards, Katerina Alambiel discovers that she was born Alambiel, daughter of Lew the last King of Narnia, and the only survivor of Jadis' massacre of the original royal family. Before Katerina Alambiel can decide how to handle the information, she and King Edmund go on a border patrol but are captured by the vengeful disgraced Count Hendrik and his cousin, Heikki, who leads a group of mercenaries employed by the Witch Medea. As Peter and Oreius lead a huge rescue party to find them, Edmund and Katerina Alambiel are tormented by Medea. Peter and Oreius rescue them just after Medea turns Katerina Alambiel over to Heikki and Hendrik and prepares to kill Edmund. Medea is defeated and her forces routed and scattered. Katerina Alambiel swears Oreius and the four other Narnians who know the truth of her identity to secrecy (Full story: _Revealed_).

Two and a half years after the incident with Medea and the Sisemaalian mercenaries, Werewolves and Hags plot to resurrect Jadis through the sacrifice of royal blood. While General Oreius and the Kings are on a diplomatic journey to Archenland, Oreius is forced to reexamine his feelings for Katerina Alambiel. In the absence of the General and the Kings, Katerina Alambiel and Queen Susan are ambushed by Werewolves and Susan is spirited away to be the sacrifice. Katerina Alambiel and her small party pursue the Werewolves but without the aid of the soldiers led by General Oreius and the Kings, Katerina Alambiel offers herself as a trade. With Katerina Alambiel now prisoner of the Fell, the remaining soldiers and Susan finally meet up with the Kings and Oreius. While the injured Susan is rushed back to the Cair and the healing power of Lucy's cordial, Oreius and the Kings seek to rescue Katerina Alambiel before the Fell ceremony on Winter Solstice and the truth of Katerina Alambiel's royal heritage is revealed to the Four. Oreius and the Kings disrupt the ceremony and aid in Katerina Alambiel's escape. Upon returning to the Cair, Katerina Alambiel presents the Four with an edict resolving many potential issues concerning her heritage, which is now common knowledge, but Oreius waits for a better time to reveal to Katerina Alambiel that he cares for her as more than a friend (Full Story: _Concealed_).

Almost six months after having her royal heritage become common knowledge, Katerina Alambiel travels as the Princess Royal with General Oreius on a diplomatic mission to the country of Zelaia. On their last night in Zelaia, Katerina Alambiel comes to the realization that she loves Oreius. However, before either one speaks up, they are captured by slavers and sold into the underground world of the Blood Games. Forced to fight by the man who bought them, Katerina Alambiel and Oreius teeter on the brink of despair. They finally escape with another fighter and return to Narnia. Once they recover from their wounds, Oreius and Katerina Alambiel confess their love to each other and are now courting in secret (Full Story: _Rekindled_).

A little over five months after Katerina Alambiel and Oreius return to Narnia, they travel with Peter on a diplomatic trip to Telmar. However, due to treachery on part of one of the Lords of the Council of Telmar, the three are forced to end negotiations early and attempt to leave Telmar. Before they can cross the border, mercenaries attack them. Oreius stays behind, allowing Peter and a wounded Katerina Alambiel to escape. Once Katerina Alambiel is in the care of healers, Peter sneaks back into Telmar to discover Oreius' fate. When he finally finds the mercenaries though, he is captured. Tormented by the mercenary leader, Peter is then forced to fight for his and Oreius' freedom. After winning their freedom, the mercenaries once again ambush Peter and Oreius but the fight ends with the mercenary leader dead and Peter gravely wounded. Receiving guidance from an unexpected source, Oreius carries the wounded and, at times, delirious Peter through Telmar and the Western Wilds until they finally return to Narnia. Once he receives the cordial, Peter becomes betrothed to the Beech Nymph, Thalia, whom he's been courting for some time (Full Story: _Lion and Flower_), while Oreius and Katerina Alambiel choose to wait to announce their courtship until Peter and Thalia's wedding (Full Story: _Refracted_).

A month after Peter and Oreius' return to Narnia, a diplomatic party sets sail for the Seven Isles to represent Narnia at the wedding of the Governor's son. Soon Edmund, Lucy, and Tarrin Peridanson are separated from the rest of their party including Oreius and Katerina Alambiel who are still courting in secret. The search for their missing charges leads them through storms and into the company of a questionable character. Meanwhile, Edmund, Tarrin, and Lucy are unaware that their situation is not all that it seems. When Lucy discovers the truth, matters take a deadly turn and it is a race against time to defeat their hidden enemy. Tarrin Peridanson sacrifices himself to save his King and Queen, but is revived by the cordial upon their return to Narnia. Oreius and Katerina Alambiel's courtship is forced into the open and then Tarrin Peridanson is knighted Sir Delos of the Most Noble Order of the Table (Full Story: _Reflected_).

A little under three months after Oreius and Katerina Alambiel's courtship becomes common knowledge, Katerina Alambiel is discovered unconscious and tormented almost to the point of death on Narnia's northern border. When she wakes with no memory, not even of Oreius and their love, the mystery surrounding her abduction deepens while Narnia's enemies plot to use her as the linchpin to destroy Narnia. Oreius and the Kings race to discover what happened to Katerina Alambiel and whether she can still be trusted when she cannot remember them. Oreius also makes the painful decision to conceal the evidence of his and Alambiel's relationship even to the point of letting her go entirely. Eventually Alambiel's memory returns and they rekindle their romance. (Full Story: _Veiled_).

**_A Light in the Darkness: Unveiled_**

Chapter One: The Blinding

20 Greenroof 1009

It was chaos, utter chaos. Edmund tightened his grip on his twin blades as he braced for another attack. The Fell troops attacking the western border were more numerous than their scouts had reported, far more numerous. In the thick of fighting, he had lost sight of Philip and his Wolves. Peter. Where was Peter?

An Ogre charged at him, swinging a huge mace. Edmund dodged to the left but he felt one of the mace's spikes catch on his tabard, yanking him back just as he slashed at the Ogre's knee. The Ogre roared in pain as his right leg crumpled. Edmund rolled out of the way just as he toppled to the ground.

Peter's concerned face was peering down at him even as his brother freed Rhindon from the Ogre's upper back. "All right?"

Edmund nodded once. "You?"

Peter gave a curt nod then pushed his visor down as he turned to face the other Fell creatures. "Ready?"

Edmund raised his swords in silent answer as he stepped up next to his brother. The brothers exchanged determined looks then raised their swords and shouted in unison, "For Narnia and for Aslan!"

They charged the Fell. Ogres, Goblins, Ghouls, and the rest of the Fell hesitated as the two kings rallied their troops. Edmund stayed with Peter, fighting back to back and side to side, trusting that the rest of the army fought on. Then the atmosphere of the battlefield changed. The Hag Edmund had mortally wounded but a moment beforehand let out a shrill laugh and pointed a talon-tipped finger at him. "He comes! He comes for you! Your Great Cat won't be able to save you now!" She laughed again until it became her death rattle and her arm fell limp as her head rolled back, large eyes now filmed in death.

"Edmund!"

Edmund whirled, tense and with his weapons at the ready, but there was no one close to him. The Fell had abruptly pulled back to form a staggered circle. Had they acquired a champion? Peter was just on the other side of the circle, struggling to fight his way through. Then the Fell to Peter's immediate left moved. A flash of red. Peter raised his shield and a ball formed of unnatural red flames slammed against it, knocking his brother to the ground.

"Nooooo!" Edmund charged for his brother but he was too late. An Ogre raised his war hammer, aiming for Peter's head. "For Aslan!"

Shafhelm sliced through the Ogre's arm and the creature howled in pain then kicked Peter in the head with his iron-toed boot. Edmund buried his secondary sword between the Ogre's ribs then moved to stand protectively over his brother's limp form. "Peter. Peter, get up, you great lummox. We don't have time for you to be a layabout." Peter didn't stir or even groan. _Oh please, Alsan, let the helmet have saved him from anything too serious._

A low, taunting laugh filled the air. "He cannot protect His chosen anymore! I will change my fate!"

Edmund looked up. A stranger was approaching. A tall man, almost as tall as Oreius, dark haired and swarthy. His eyes blazed with the same unnatural red glow as surrounded his bare hands. The man raised his hands and the red flames licking their way up them leapt into the space between, joining together to form another ball of fire. Edmund automatically raised his left arm in defense as the fireball hurtled toward him.

A hoarse scream of pain escaped him as the fireball engulfed his sword in flame, burning his hand and forearm. Edmund flung the sword away just as another fireball hit him in the chest, knocking him off his feet. Air escaped his lungs in a rush and the heat permeating his mail made him gasp all the more. Peter. He had to get back up. But his limbs betrayed him.

Then he heard it. A roar that at once terrified and encouraged him shook the air. Aslan.

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Markus raised his hands, already calling to mind the killing spell. He would rid himself of the kings now. He would take back his fate. The younger king lay gasping on the ground a few yards away from his unconscious brother. He would kill him first otherwise the boy would likely get up and make a nuisance of himself again.

He focused on the king. He need only say one word to finish the killing spell. He opened his mouth but the word froze on his tongue. A roar shook the air and cast him to the ground. All around him the Fell were either clinging to the ground in fear or fleeing the battlefield. Markus shakily rose and turned back to the kings. He needed to-

A large golden Lion now stood between Markus and the Narnian Kings. Solemn gold eyes watched him, pierced him unto his very soul. He remembered looking into those eyes last Yule when he should have died. "Markus, Markus, why do you hunt Me?"

"You? I do not hunt You. I want…I want only to change my fate."

The low growl that filled the air was almost enough to make him fall at the Lion's feet and beg for mercy. But he could not do that. He was His enemy. The Lion's golden gaze became unbearable and Markus looked away but he could see nothing of the battlefield due to the light emanating from and surrounding the Great Lion. Aslan's voice filled his ears as unescapable as it had been when He had come to him in the caves as he lay dying. "Markus of the Fell, once of another world, the time and place of your final choice is at hand."

"My choice was made for me."

The Lion's golden eyes bore into him, seeing all the dark things he had done, seeing all that he was and all that he had failed to be. "You hunt those who are Mine, therefore, you hunt Me. The time and place of your final choice is at hand. Choose wisely, Markus."

The Lion vanished.

Markus was still next to the kings. He should… He should continue with his mission, free himself of that unwanted fate. Raising his hand, he spoke the killing curse. Nothing happened. Markus stared at his hands. There was no hint of magic. The flames, which usually caressed his skin unless he willed them away, were gone. He willed them to flare up. They did not.

No. The Great Cat had blinded him. His magic was gone as if it had never existed. He couldn't even feel its dormant presence anymore. No. _Finish the mission and your magic will return._ The thought was desperate but he had to try. Unsheathing his katana, Markus raised it high. The Just King stared up at him without fear, even knowing death was to come.

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**A/N: Please Read and Review! So here's the opening of the ninth entry into the main _A Light in the Darkness_ series! This is my 200th story and I'm posting it exactly three years after I first posted _A Light in the Darkness: Awakened_. **

**A/N2: Due to Real Life and the huge NaNo project I took on, the updates will be slow for a while, at least until December but don't worry I have this one planned out enough that updates should flow fairly quickly then.**

**A/N3: Aslan's warning/question to Markus is drawn directly from Saul/Paul's encounter with Jesus on the Road to Damascus in Acts 9 where Jesus asks him, "Saul, Saul, why do you persecute Me?"**


	2. Chapter Two: Withdrawal

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: A sorcerer challenged by Aslan. Love and friendship alike are tested by his presence. And the Gentle Queen faces her own challenge when the sorcerer's true colors are unveiled.

A/N: If you have not read the first eight stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc (_Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, and Veiled_), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Two: Withdrawal

Solemn dark eyes, unafraid of death, unafraid of _him_, gazed up at Markus. He grit his teeth. It must be done. He had killed before, so many times before, this boy, this Son of Adam would not make him falter._ Markus, Markus._

He shuddered at the Voice that echoed through his memory. His hands tightened on the hilt of his katana. Another sly voice whispered through his mind. _Slay them. Slay the Sons of Adam and your magic will be returned to you._

Markus once again dropped his gaze to the dark-haired king who was still sprawled over his elder brother's body. Had the effects of the last fireball not still been holding reign over his limbs and sapping his strength, Markus had no doubt that this former pet of Jadis would have hurled himself into him to protect his brother. That trait was one thing that bespoke the brothers' kinship despite their differing looks and temperaments. It should have disgusted him. Jadis had taught him all too well what came of daring to care for anyone…he could not remember the last time anyone had attempted to die for him. It was of no consequence. He had a mission. He would see it through and the Narnian Kings' deaths would restore his magic.

Meeting those solemn dark eyes again, Markus raised his katana high and then brought it down in one swift move that would neatly part the Just King's head from his shoulders. A Horse's squeal of anger was the only warning before a large chestnut Stallion barreled down on them. He jostled Markus, catching the katana with the meaty part of his shoulder before the metal discs studding his harness deflected it.

"No!" The Just King jolted up and was nearly kicked in the head for his efforts.

The Horse's attention was diverted as he wheeled to the side to avoid wounding his king further and Markus leapt back. He hesitated. The Horse was distracted as was the dark-haired king. He could kill the golden one. Killing the High King would surely fulfill enough of his mission to regain his magic. His fingers clenched around the katana's hilt. Killing him would not be a challenge. Helpless and weak as he was…

A howl split the air. "King Edmund! King Edmund!"

Markus looked up. Two grey blurs were barreling their way across the battlefield followed by a rider. He looked again at the High King. Then he spun on his heel and ran, fleeing with rest of the Fell. No, not fleeing. He never fled. He was merely withdrawing until he determined how to break the seal the Great Cat had placed on his magic.

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Edmund groaned as Philip nuzzled his face, barely brushing against the bloodied spot on his temple where his hoof had just clipped him and knocked his helmet askew. Howls filled the air. His Wolves, no doubt.

"King Edmund! King Edmund!"

Philip drew his head back with a disgusted snort as one of the Greyback brothers practically climbed into Edmund's lap. The Wolf's rough pink tongue dragged up the side of his face. Edmund grimaced. "Romulus-"

"I'm Remus, King Edmund."

"It hardly matters which of you it is," Philip interjected, glaring, "as long as you get off of the Kings. They are injured."

Before the Wolf could do more than step back guiltily, gazing up at Edmund with an utterly heartbroken look in his yellow eyes, pounding hooves drew up beside them. Kat's voice snapped a command, "Ptah, stop Romulus and then go for help. We'll need a litter."

Edmund heard low growls and he managed to turn his head enough to see both of Peter's Tigers looking at Kat. Kat swung down from Nahar's back, the black Horse having insisted that he carry the venerable Dame Sepphora into battle, and then tugged off the helm that had concealed her braided and pinned hair. She fixed the Tigers with a stern gaze. "Form a perimeter until Ptah returns with aid." She waited until Bast and Babur bowed their great heads and then strode over to them, slipping easily past Remus. She looked him over and then shook her head. "I swear the minute we let the two of you out of sight is when Murphy has a heyday."

"We were doing fine."

"Until you weren't," Kat interrupted drily. She frowned at him. "Think you can stand without falling on your face?"

Edmund snorted. "Of course, I can! It's Peter you should be worrying about." He carefully untangled his legs from his brother's, trying not to show his worry when the great lummox didn't even groan at the slight jostles he couldn't seem to avoid giving him. Pushing to his feet, he met Kat's watchful gaze with a slight smirk and then spread his arms- An agonizing flash of pain wrapped itself around his left hand and arm. His legs gave out and he would have fallen on his face if not for Kat catching him.

"Actually I think I should be worrying about you both. Nahar!"

The waves of pain licking up his arm made it difficult for Edmund to stay conscious but he still heard Philip's indignant snort. "Dame Sepphora, I-"

"Am wounded. And that wound looks nasty enough that you need to go to the healers too. Nahar, if you would oblige us by carrying Sir How to the healers?" Kat paused then tapped against his cheek. "Don't you pass out yet, Edmund."

"Amn't." Edmund retorted but his words sounded slurred even to his own ears.

Then a velvet nose nudged his shoulder gently and he looked up to meet Philip's worried gaze. "Let Nahar carry you, King Edmund." The chestnut Horse looked at the black and snorted. "Do not drop my boy."

The other Stallion huffed but said nothing as he held still so Kat could help Edmund clamber into the saddle without putting any more pressure on his wounded hand and arm. Edmund stared down at Peter who still hadn't moved. Kat patted his knee. "Don't worry, Edmund. You know Peter's hard head tends to keep him safe. Go on, Nahar."

Nahar's rocking gait wasn't as familiar or comfortable as Philip's and Edmund almost wished Philip was carrying him instead. But a single glance at the bloody wound decorating Philip's shoulder forbade such an idea and made him sick to the stomach. He should have taken care of the sorcerer. He should have stopped him before Peter was left vulnerable. He should have… He should have… The darkness he had been fighting since the pain first began to engulf his arm filled his vision. He just barely heard Philip's alarmed snort and the Wolves' yips. Then he knew no more.

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Alambiel sat in the Kings' tent, her chin propped on her hand, watching the brothers sleep. The Greyback brothers had snuggled against Edmund's sides as soon as they had crept in shortly after the other healers left. The burns to Edmund's left hand and arm weren't as bad as they had originally feared and it wouldn't take more than a fortnight or so for him to mend.

She straightened as the tent flap was swept back and the Kentauri entered, his dark gaze already fastened on the slumbering trouble-finders. "How are they?"

"Blessed." Alambiel arched an eyebrow when Oreius looked down at her. "Peter only has a concussion and bruised ribs to show for his encounter with the sorcerer and an Ogre while Edmund is burnt but not crispy, more of a light singe thanks to the protection of his glove and armor. Oh and he has a concussion and bruised ribs as well. The concussion he could have escaped if he hadn't sat up when Philip was in the middle of attacking the sorcerer."

"Will they be fit to travel in the morn?"

"No but that's never stopped them." She glanced at them then stood up and held her hand out. "Come on, we should let them rest. If they're going to be miserable tomorrow, they might as well be well-rested and miserable."

It was a very bad joke but finally Oreius cracked the slightest of smiles as he held open the tent flap, allowing her to leave first. She glanced back at him, trying not to feel a little off-kilter that he hadn't accepted the invitation to take her hand, but she reminded herself that they had agreed to maintain an air of professionalism while fulfilling their military duties just like other couples in the army. As they crossed the short distance to their own tent, Alambiel couldn't help feeling a little apprehensive. There was something about this that she was missing.

"Alambiel?"

She turned around and offered a wan smile. "Yes?"

The Kentauri caught her chin in his hand and gently forced her to look up at him. "What's wrong?"

"What did you see on the battlefield?"

"A great light and I heard Aslan's roar."

"I saw the same thing. The entire army probably saw and heard Him." She frowned slightly. "There's something different about the sorcerer. He could have killed Edmund and Peter both several times over before we reached him but he didn't. I wish I knew why."

Oreius was silent for a long moment then he flicked his tail. "Aslan's merciful providence or else the Fell sorcerer would have carried through with the attacks." He placed both hands on her shoulders, his dark eyes searching hers. "How did _you_ fare, Wife?"

Alambiel smiled in spite of herself. "I'm fine, really."

Her Kentauri raised both eyebrows then looked her over critically. "Are you certain?"

"Yes." She turned around slowly, holding her arms out. "As you can see I have already removed my armor and freshened up." He chuckled but submitted the unspoken request that she be allowed to help him remove his own armor. She frowned slightly when she undid the straps of his armor and noted the bruises along his arms and shoulders.

"It is nothing."

"Uh-huh." Alambiel prodded a particularly large bruise and then arched an eyebrow when Oreius couldn't quite hide his flinch and the accompanying grimace. "Nothing at all." Rummaging through her healing kit (which she had left out and ready), she pulled out a soothing ointment and then pointed to the bed. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way."

For a moment, she could tell the Kentauri was weighing the choices. And if a burst of laughter from celebrating soldiers hadn't filtered through the tent walls, he probably would have chosen the hard way. Instead, he kissed her hand and rumbled, "I will finish cleaning up and then I will submit meekly to your tender care, I promise."

She watched him stride over to the washbasin and then because she couldn't quite help herself, she murmured mockingly, "Guess you'll have to wait to find out what the hard way is, hmm?"

Oreius' chuckle filled their tent. "Minx."

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_The battlefield lay before him, deserted save for the bodies of the fallen. He shifted his hooves uneasily. Something was very wrong. Picking his way past the slain Fell, he stopped short when he spied a familiar form. No. __He galloped across the field and then dropped heavily beside the body. When he rolled her over, he looked into blue eyes that had lost their spark of life, eyes that stared blankly at him._ _No, no, not this. "Alambiel!"_

Oreius jerked upright, his breathing harsh, and he barely suppressed a cry from escaping. They were no longer on the battlefield. They were in Cair Paravel. Alambiel was… He looked quickly, not relaxing until he saw her curled on her side next to him.

Laying back against the pillows, he rested his hand lightly on her shoulder but she stirred, rolling over to face him, as she murmured sleepily, "Oreius?"

"It's nothing. Go back to sleep."

At first he thought she might ask him what was troubling him but she only shifted closer, curling against him as she rested her head on his chest. He listened as her breathing evened out again and then he wrapped his arms around her. They had been home only for a scant two or three hours but they were home. He pressed a tender kiss to the top of her head. There would have to be changes now that they were married. Alambiel needed more than just Ptah to protect her.

Resolved to the new course of action, Oreius closed his eyes. He would not leave any openings for an enemy to steal her away from him again. What happened last year had been too close, far too close. The note he had found on top of his papers flashed before him again: _Don't think you can keep her out of my clutches, Centaur._ He had not recognized the handwriting and had immediately cast the crumpled note away before Alambiel had come in and teased him about missing his paperwork. It was an empty threat, he told himself sternly, but he would lay down new layers of protection for his Alambiel. Stubborn as she could be about her own guards, she certainly needed at least one or two more.

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**A/N: Please Read and Review! All right, I successfully survived Real Life and my enormous NaNo project and now back to Narnia! And don't worry I have much, much, _much_ more planned for this one. The next chapter should be chasing after Markus. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	3. Chapter Three: Unexpected

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: A sorcerer challenged by Aslan. Love and friendship alike are tested by his presence. And the Gentle Queen faces her own challenge when the sorcerer's true colors are unveiled.

A/N: If you have not read the first eight stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc (_Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, and Veiled_), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Three: Unexpected

_There is no hope._ That thought taunted him even as he forced himself to stride through the dark pine trees and past the increasing number of rocky outcroppings without giving away that he was well aware of the hungry eyes that followed his progress. Had followed his progress since the Narnians had ceased pursuing them. Markus pressed his lips together in a tight line as a Werewolf's snarl rose from the trees. The skinny creature who leapt in front of him was not one of the Werewolves he had used before. Brutus and Isak were both well hidden in the northern lands, gathering larger packs and thus far avoiding each other, and he had chosen not to waste any magic on summoning Brutus at least this time.

Markus once again felt for his magic, its warm glow that should have leapt at his call, but there was nothing. Only a cold, dead space where his fire had once burned. He almost cursed but he dared not when so many hungry Fell eyes watched him. It would give more away than he wanted in their greedy, clutching hands. Instead, he placed his hand on his katana. "You should have chosen more wisely."

The Werewolf gibbered as it leaned forward, sniffing the air loudly. Its mouth opened slightly to reveal crooked yellowed teeth. "Flesh."

An eerie cackle filled the air but Markus didn't flinch. He slowly looked to his right as the Hag crept out of hiding. Her robes were little more than tattered grey cloth save where dark stains of mud and blood splattered the hem and sleeves. The Hag tilted her head then clacked her beak as she pointed a gnarled, talon-tipped finger at him. "Traitor. You have betrayed Her."

Markus sneered. "And by what right do you accuse me, Hag?"

The Hag swayed slightly, waving her compatriots forward. Markus maintained his sneer as two more Hags and four Werewolves crept out of the shadows. There were yet others watching, he was certain of it, but this Hag could only count these among her forces. Her Nest and the Werewolves they had bribed with promises of fresh flesh. The leader of the Hags was not old enough or powerful enough to be a Matriarch. Nor was she of Beira's Nest. That ancient matriarch's daughters yet fought each other for dominance and the right to wield the more powerful spells. Markus' eyes narrowed in contempt as he watched the Hag snatch a staff from the youngest Hag before she turned back to him with a combative light in her large, bird-like eyes. She clacked her beak and pointed her staff at him. "Markus, you have betrayed Her! You parlayed with the Great Cat. You-"

A great bark of laughter escaped him. "Parlay? With that Cat? You are more a fool than I believed if that's how you dare to accuse your better."

The Hag screeched in anger, raising her staff threateningly. "You are not my better, Son of Adam!"

"Nor am I a Son of Adam. The Children of Adam and Eve do not take very well to magic as even someone as simple as you should know. Or did your matriarch drive you from the Nest untrained?" Markus countered smoothly, observing with great satisfaction as the Hag rattled her staff in wordless fury while the other two Hags exchanged uneasy looks. Any Hag driven out of her Nest without training was not one to be allied with, not if the other Hags wanted a chance of forming their own Nests. He cleared his throat, resting his hand with a practiced carelessness on the hilt of his katana. He would kill the Hags first. The Werewolves might be more powerful physically but the Hags' knowledge of spellcraft made them the more dangerous opponents, especially since he could not invoke a temporary binding spell. "Since there was no parlay with the Great Cat, mayhap you will explain what you were planning to do. I shall be generous and allow you to make your defense before I kill you. This time."

"You are a traitor! I saw you! I saw you speak to the Great Cat!"

"Jadis Herself spoke to the Great Cat; though I understand that she did not long live past that conversation. But we must make allowances when dealing with one even Death cannot hold or so I have heard." Markus smirked slightly then added, "Come, come, you must have a better accusation or at least better proof of my rumored perfidy."

The Hag whirled on one of the lesser Hags, screeching and clawing at her with her talons. "You! You worthless chick! Blind! Fool! Talentless egg-eater!"

Markus sidled a little closer to the arguing Hags. If he timed it right, he could remove all three heads at once and then be left with only the Werewolves. And he had hope that the Werewolves' emaciated state would compel them to take advantage of the fresh meals, which would allow him to slip away without any reports reaching the rest of the Fell that his powers had been blinded.

One of the Werewolves, the skinniest of the lot, upset his plans. The Fell Beast lunged at him. Markus whirled, unsheathing his katana and slicing through the its neck in one fluid movement. A weight slammed into his back and pain flared as another Werewolf clamped its teeth around his shoulder, tearing through skin and muscle. Markus roared as he reached over his shoulder to clamp a hand around that one's neck, yanking the Fell free. He tossed it to the ground. The Werewolf scrambled to its feet and turned to face him. It lunged. Markus stepped to the side, his katana slicing deep into its side and puncturing organs. It dropped with a whining yelp. Its fellows showed no mercy as they leapt on the dying Beast.

Turning away from the feasting Werewolves, Markus hid a frown when he saw the three Hags, their quarrel forgotten, still blocking his path. The leader clacked her beak then pointed her staff at him. "Why do the Werewolves still live?"

Markus sneered, his grasp on the katana's hilt tightening. "Perhaps I am in a merciful mood. And perhaps I am not feeling quite so merciful toward you."

The Hag's beak opened slightly and he knew that her small mind had finally connected the pieces. Her talon dripped blood from where she had scored the other Hag's face as she raised it in an accusatory gesture. "You-"

Her accusation and that of her sister Hags was cut short. Markus lowered his katana as the three headless bodies collapsed to the ground. Wiping the blade off on the Hag's tattered robes, he knew he didn't have much time before the Werewolves paid more attention to his fresh blood. If he had his magic, then he could have resolved the matter swiftly and with enough of a power display that the Fell would have continued to quell before him. Instead, he forced himself to walk away from the Werewolves and the dead.

Eyes continued to watch him and he sensed the approach of darker creatures, the Ghouls and Succubi who had ventured out of the north in search of fresh prey. Let them watch then. He would never show them fear. Instinct and habit had him reaching for the flames of his magic but coldness met his will. The Great Cat's influence still blinded his power.

High, cold laughter filled the air. "Markus, Markus of the Fell. Today you die!"

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22 Greenroof 1009

"Alambiel."

She rolled over, tugging the pillow over her head. "Too early."

The rumbling noise disturbing her sleep gained a thread of amusement and then the covers were yanked back. "Come now, Sepphora, we have much to do today."

"Like sleeping."

She felt the pillow's downy weight vanish just before a light and somewhat ticklish pressure was applied to the side of her neck. Still refusing to open her eyes, Alambiel groaned, "Oreius, go away." Then she yelped and jerked her feet up away from the fingers tickling their soles. She cracked a single eyelid open and peered at the Kentauri as she grumbled, "That's cheating."

Oreius chuckled, a smile spreading across his face. "And you are a very lazy creature, Wife."

"Yes, I am," she agreed amiably. Then she yanked the covers from his hand and pulled them over her head. "And you can either give in to the laziness or be unnaturally efficient and alone."

"Alambiel." The Kentauri tugged the coverlet back down, shaking his head with a mock scowl now decorating his angular features. "You like getting up early in the morn."

"Ah, you have misunderstood." Sitting up, Alambiel pointed at the windows, which Oreius had already uncovered. "Look outside. It's dark out there. The sun isn't up and we didn't get back until after midnight. _I_ am a wonderful morning person _after_ sunrise and when I've already had a full night's rest. What possible reason could I have for getting up now?"

"Coffee."

She laughed suddenly. "I thought for sure you would suggest yourself."

The Kentauri grasped her hands, pulling her up so he could wrap his arms around her. There was a gleam in his dark eyes as he rested his forehead against hers. "And I thought, my little Minx, that you knew my company was a foregone conclusion."

"Well-" That was all she managed to say before Oreius cut her off with a kiss. Wrapping her arms around his neck, Alambiel grinned at him. "Ahem. As I was saying before you interrupted, I suppose this time I might be coaxed into getting up early."

Oreius chuckled. "I thought I might be able to change your mind."

"Don't be smug, Kentauri, or I will lock you out of the armory _after_ I let the Raccoons and Peridan's kids inside."

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Susan kept her head bent, eyes as focused on her needlework as her ears were focused on listening to Edmund's breathing. Lucy had just woken up and was checking on Peter. Although Susan was certain that their sister-in-law had their stubborn older brother well in hand. Edmund, though…

A low groan made her lift her head as her fingers stilled. Edmund groaned again and Susan quickly exchanged her needlework for a glass of chamomile tea. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she held the dainty teacup to her brother's lips and tried not to worry about how his skin was scarcely a shade darker than the china cup. He drank a few sips and then stilled although the pinched expression didn't fade, telling her that he was still awake. Laying a slender hand on his head, Susan stroked his dark hair back off his forehead. "Edmund?"

He groaned and then blinked slowly at her. "Su?"

She smiled. "Yes, it's me. No, don't try to sit up yet."

Edmund pushed at her hand. "Peter, he's-"

"He's all right. Thalia sat with him and Lucy is checking on him now." Susan scanned his face, wondering if she should summon Tuulea and Alithia based on his rather sluggish attempts to escape her ministrations. "Lie still, Edmund. I'll summon Alithia and-"

"No. No, where's Peter? The sorcerer, he hit Peter with some sort of fire spell."

Susan set the teacup on the nightstand and then placed both hands against her brother's shoulders, pressing him back against the pillows. "Oh do be still. It won't help Peter anyway if you break your head open by trying to get out of bed before you can." At her younger brother's mutinous scowl, Susan hid a smile. Sometimes the belligerent ten year old still showed himself even though Edmund was eighteen, almost nineteen. She pressed a kiss to his hair, which was sticking up in every direction. He really did need a haircut. "Your left arm and hand are burned, Edmund, and you have a concussion. Not to mention your ribs are bruised. If I let you out of bed, you'd probably play on the balcony and finish breaking yourself."

"And we wouldn't want that so be a good boy, Eddie."

Susan shot Peter a reproving look as he walked over to her chair and lowered himself into it stiffly. "You should be resting too. Where's Thalia?"

As she rose from where she had been sitting on the edge of the bed, her big brother shot her that little boy look, his blue eyes wide and pleading, as he answered mournfully, "Lucy took her away and I was lonely. I thought I'd come and keep you and Ed company until they return. Please say I can stay, Su."

Resting her hands on her hips, Susan fought the smile that wanted to come out. A soft cough came from the door and she turned to see one of her ladies-in-waiting peeking in. "Yes?"

"Forgive me, Your Majesties, but you said to let you know when the _Golden Albatross_ docked, Queen Susan. Ambassador Terril is preparing to disembark. Queen Lucy has also been sent word."

"Thank you, Merry." As the Dryad dipped a curtsey, Susan knew she would have to go down and greet the ambassador. Turning back to her brothers, she raised an eyebrow at the grins they smothered a moment too late. Both young men looked up at her with perfect innocence. She shook her head. "Do you promise that the two of you will stay out of mischief and you won't go near the balconies?"

Peter beamed at her. "Of course, Su. We'll be proper patients this time."

"I won't let the great lummox blunder his way into more broken bones, Su," Edmund promised with that little smirk that usually meant trouble.

Peter looked down at him with a feigned air of haughtiness. "I do not blunder, but if I ever do, I assure you that I do it magnificently."

"A magnificent blunder is worse than a regular blunder, you know that right?"

"I'll have you know that it is not. It's too magnificent to be a blunder. In fact the sheer magnificence elevates the act beyond the realms of a blunder."

"Well, I-"

"Enough, please!" Susan laughed in spite of her best efforts not to in the face of her brothers' antics. "Behave or I shall send Bast and Babur to sit on the both of you." She pointed at them, forcing a stern expression back in place. "Behave yourselves or you will both forfeit the apple pie I made yesterday."

"Apple pie!"

The twin exclamations and suddenly angelic expressions her brothers turned on her made Susan laugh again. "Yes. So behave and rest."

As she walked down the hall, Susan wondered if her brothers would manage to stay out of trouble for even five minutes. Well, she conceded it would probably take them fifteen minutes before they dared to move and another ten before they could find clean socks and boots. Not to mention actually dressing since Peter had limped in still wearing a dressing gown. No, by the time her brothers managed to array themselves in some semblance of order and dared to try to escape, Thalia at least would be where she could intervene. And where Peter didn't listen to his sisters, he would listen to his wife. Susan smiled, confident in that plan. Now, she need only greet Ambassador Terril.

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Markus raised his head. Had the Ghouls and Succubi been alone, he could have defeated them easily even without his magic. But they had driven an Ogre toward him. He had still killed the creature but at a high cost. He pressed his left hand against his ribs and nearly passed out from the pain. A taunting laugh filled the air. Turning his head, he spied the wispy outline of a Succubus. The creature leered at him, its cloudy features shifting into a form that was daringly similar to that of Medea's, Jadis' dark-haired daughter. Few Fell would dare to take on the forms of Jadis and Her children. The Succubus laughed again then hovered over him. "Foolish Markus. It's all gone, isn't it? _He_ took it from you!"

The Succubus leaned closer, its mouth nearly brushing against his, but then it raised one pale arm, a knife in its fist. It buried its other hand in his hair and yanked his head to the side, exposing his throat. The knife came down and then stopped just as the cool tip touched his skin. The Succubus looked up and flinched. "No!"

"Be you gone, spirit! No power have you here, by Aslan, no power have you here!"

Markus' brow furrowed as the Succubus screamed, its facsimile of Medea shattering and the cloudy form spinning in on itself then vanishing as the knife dropped harmless in the dirt and rocks. "You?"

"Aye! Oberon I am and a new job Aslan has given to old Oberon." A man who looked to be well into his middle age leaned against his staff as he peered down at Markus. A slow smile split his bushy beard, which was more grey than brown, as he nodded to himself. "Yes, Oberon now see. Now see why Oberon sent by Aslan to fetch you, the stubborn one."

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**A/N: Please Read and Review! For those of you who have been pining, or at least waiting eagerly, for more of _Steadfast and Valiant_, I promise that the next chapter is coming very soon. It will probably be posted before chapter four. In the meantime, please leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one. **


	4. Chapter Four: Fool's Court

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: A sorcerer challenged by Aslan. Love and friendship alike are tested by his presence. And the Gentle Queen faces her own challenge when the sorcerer's true colors are unveiled.

A/N: If you have not read the first eight stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc (_Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, and Veiled_), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Four: Fool's Court

Oreius pulled out the files and checked the notes that were covered in a pretty script. Alambiel's notes on past candidates for the royal guards for the Queens should suffice. Two of the candidates he set aside immediately, remembering quite well how irritated his wife had been when she was evaluating them, and she would never tolerate their presence among her expanded guard. He still needed to inform her that she could no longer rely on Ptah alone for her personal guard. But that task he had continued to put off.

He sighed as he set quill to parchment and began compiling the names of the soldiers he could trust most with the task of protecting Alambiel. When she learned of his actions, he had no doubt that she would be stubborn and petulant and kick up her heels with as much fuss as she had the last time he had broached the topic, shortly after her heritage had become public knowledge. He had conceded the matter then but now… Oreius added two more names to the list. The note he had found only reaffirmed the need for Alambiel's guard to be increased. What sort of husband would he be if he failed to do everything in his power to protect her?

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27 Greenroof 1009

"Kat, there you are!"

"What's the matter, Lucy?"

Lucy looped her arm through Alambiel's, tugging her toward the conservatory. "You better hurry. Susan needs your help."

"Umm," she glanced over her shoulder, once again noting the presence of a sleek Ocelot, one of Vardan Windwolf's daughters, and a brown Satyr with corkscrew horns trailing in their wake. "Which one is bothering her?"

"Ambassador Terril's nephew. The one who talks too much."

"Drats." Alambiel arched an eyebrow. "Is he singing again?"

Lucy's dramatic shudder was almost enough to make her lose her attempt at mimicking a responsible and very boring adult. The ambassador and his nephews had been a bit too interested in her after they had wandered into the training yard while she was beating Peter and Edmund (Tarrin had already been declared dead). It was never good when the ambassadors started to guess how well she fought; not to mention it ruined the advantage she gained through surprise. Boring and responsible was the best tactic now.

"Worse. He's reciting poetry. Don't laugh, Kat. He was rhyming rose with nose when I left to get you."

Alambiel snickered. "Please tell me the nose was smelling the rose."

"No." Lucy pressed her lips together but a smile broke free anyway. "He said Susan's nose was formed like a perfect red, err, white rose."

She stopped in her tracks, automatically reaching up to touch the tip of her own nose. "A rose?" Lucy nodded. Alambiel dissolved into laughter, wrapping her arms around her ribs as she looked away from Lucy in a vain attempt to keep her composure. The younger Queen's giggles joined hers until they were both leaning against the nearest wall, breathless and tears streaming down their reddened cheeks. Alambiel ran her hands over her hair, trying to distract herself from the unfortunate and hilarious mental image of poor Susan with a rose blooming where her nose should be. It wasn't working.

A nudge to her leg made her look down. Ptah was watching her, his ochre eyes bright and his whiskers twitching as he grinned. "Your Highness, you are late for meeting the Gentle."

"Poor Susan," Alambiel murmured as she straightened then swiped at the tears. "Maybe you should bite this one, Ptah."

The Leopard wrinkled his broad nose. "I don't like the taste."

"Too much spice?"

"Too much oil. It leaves a very unpleasant taste for days at a time." Ptah twitched his tail then added, "And the Sons of Adam make too much noise even over a light nip."

A soft derisive snort came from where the three new guards had stopped in a rather unsubtle cluster. Alambiel frowned at them but they didn't say a word as they all feigned an identical fascination with surveying the corridor. Turning back to Lucy, she smiled. "Well, even without Ptah's bite as a potential deterrent, I shall make sure that Lord…Lord, wait, which one is always talking? Derrick or Terrick?"

"I think it's Derrick." Lucy lowered her voice to the softest of whispers and added, "Terrick is the one who's so fascinated with you."

Alambiel frowned. "I really need to introduce him to Oreius."

Blue eyes widening, Lucy stared at her in silence then another smile danced across her pink lips. "You aren't going to introduce him to Chrysaor?"

"No. He'd probably propose the moment the sword came out. Much easier to use the Kentauri. It's one of the perks of marrying him." She patted Lucy's shoulder. "Go on, I'll make sure Susan can blame me for any diplomatic Murphy moments."

"You're not supposed to let those happen, Kat."

Alambiel just grinned and continued down the corridor. Ptah stayed at her side but she was confident that the new additions to the Queens' guard would either follow Lucy (not that Babet the Wolverine sow currently on duty would need much help) or array themselves in the conservatory to watch over Susan. The nephew they assumed was Derrick's baritone voice reached her ears as soon as she entered the room. "…and your eyes are shaped like blue lilies in a clear spring pond. And your eyes, I mean, your ears are seashells studded with golden tears."

_And this is why I've been avoiding Derrick._ Alambiel bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at the poor man's attempted poetry or maybe it should just be considered attempted flattery because calling it poetry would insult, drown, execute, and beat that particular art beyond the realms of cruel and unusual punishment. Approaching the trellis, Alambiel could see Susan sitting on a marble bench with her skirts spread strategically so that Derrick couldn't take a seat without crushing her gown and that scion of Terebinthia would never stoop to such an offence. Instead, he was standing before her. Probably with an expression that brought to mind a lovesick mooncalf decorating his broad face.

Slipping by him, Alambiel barely suppressed a giggle at the flicker of relief that caused Susan's slightly forced and overly polite smile to relax into a more genuine one. The Gentle Queen twitched her skirts over so that she could take a seat. Derrick rubbed a hand over his square-cut jaw as he faltered in his soliloquy. He looked Alambiel over dubiously and she was more than tempted to jump at him just to see what he would do but she forced herself to give him a polite and very diplomatic smile.

The man relaxed, smoothed his broad hands over his finely brocaded knee-length surcoat, and then knelt on one knee before the bench. His green eyes fixed on Susan as he ran a hand through his already tousled red curls, Derrick grinned broadly. "I hope my affections are unmistakable, Your Majesty. Words can scarce capture your beauty and do it justice, though. But, I must say that if you will consent to accepting my hand in marriage, I know we will be the perfect pair. Rather like my thighs."

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"You should not have laughed."

Susan heard Kat giggle again and pressed her lips together to keep even a smile from edging its way free. After a moment of half-choked laughter, Kat tapped her on the shoulder. "I did apologize."

"While laughing."

"Oh come on! He compared you two as a potential couple to his _thighs_. If a man's going to go there, then he should at least have his thighs on display. I mean what if they were misshapen? Oh, or lopsided? Or were sticks?"

"Kat!" Susan giggled in spite of herself as she recalled the thunderstruck look Lord Derrick had given them both when Kat fell off the bench from laughing. "The poor man." She glanced over at the older woman, observing the way her hair fell in golden waves down her back. "I can't believe you're wearing your hair loose after almost eight years of never wearing it truly loose. I think the only time I've seen it like this was at your wedding."

Kat reached up, patting her hair. "Only because it's not completely impractical to wear it down today. But between you sprouting flowers and crying seashells and his thighs, which we must trust are wondrous, I think Derrick's one of your stranger suitors. Top ten at least. Possibly top five."

"At least he is only strange and not perfectly odious." Susan sighed then brightened. "Oh! I have to go see how Amaryllis and Marsalla are handling the final touches on the reception and you should probably remind your husband that the reception is set to begin at eighth hour. Don't be late, Kat. You two are the guests of honor after all."

Kat sighed but didn't protest this time. "Don't worry, I'll tell him. By the way, how are the new guards suiting you?"

Susan gave her a quizzical look. "New guards?"

Kat stopped then looked over her shoulder. "He wouldn't."

"Who wouldn't what?"

She waited but Kat didn't even seem to register her question. Susan had just opened her mouth to inquire further when Kat stated softly, "Please forgive me, Susan, but I just realized I have a pressing matter that must be seen to without delay. I'm sure the reception will be lovely."

Then the older woman left in a sweep of blue silk skirts with Ptah and three soldiers following her. Susan only recognized the cream-colored Wolf as one of the Windwolf daughters. She frowned slightly but then a Humming Bird darted up and hovered in front of her, his ruby throat gleaming in the sunlight. "Your Majesty, there is some confusion as to which flowers you wanted to decorate the reception tent."

Susan nodded. "Thank you for informing me. Please let them know I shall be there momentarily to see it." Gathering her velvet skirts, she hurried after the Hummingbird. She didn't want anything to mar the reception for two people who were practically family. Even if it was not the wedding, all of Cair Paravel still deserved the chance to congratulate Oreius and Kat on their happy marriage.

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Alambiel didn't pause as she entered Oreius' quarters, save to gesture for Ptah to wait outside, before she burst into his study. The Kentauri was looking over his reports as usual but he glanced up at her entrance. The anger that had built during her walk here as all the little odd occurrences she had noticed over the last five days slid into place but she forced herself to speak calmly and coolly, "What have you done?"

"Done?"

"Yes. What have you done, Oreius? Why would you-" She cut herself off and glared over her shoulder at the three guards who were standing just a few feet behind her. "Leave us."

They didn't move although the Wolf glanced nervously at the doors. The Satyr raised his head slightly. "We do not answer to you."

"Leave."

The moment Oreius uttered that single word, the three soldiers filed out the door. Alambiel stared after them, too angry to even look at the Centaur. She caught a glimpse of Ptah's hastily concealed shock before she slammed the door close and locked it. Turning around, she leaned against the solid oak and closed her eyes as she took a deep breath, desperately trying to calm herself down. "You assigned guards who can only be dismissed by yourself. And why exactly would you do that?"

"Iphicles misunderstood my orders. They should have left as soon as they saw you were with me. I will speak to them."

"It had best be to reassign them!" she snapped.

"No."

Alambiel clenched her fists. "No? You assigned them to watch _me_ without even so much as telling me that you were planning this. They know nothing of how a royal guard should act! And they made their presence known continually today, which made today a worse exercise than the previous days'. You need to reassign them to the Queens' guard. That at least should provide a worthy exercise."

"They are not performing an exercise."

"Don't say that." Alambiel shook her head. "Don't you dare tell me that you gave them an assignment as my guard."

Oreius regarded her with an inexplicable expression in his dark eyes before that implacable mask slipped over his face. He flicked his tail, stating bluntly, "You may not wish to hear it, but it is the truth. You need more guards."

"More guards? I thought we settled this years ago. I need no more guards than the one I already have. Ptah is more than enough."

"He was not enough in Redhaven!" Oreius clenched his jaw then repeated softly but with an iron thread weaving its way through his voice, "He is not enough. Not anymore."

Alambiel pushed off the door, watching his face for any flicker of emotion behind the stoic mask he now wore. "Is that what this is about? Redhaven and Mordad?" He didn't answer. She scowled. "Increasing the guard wouldn't have stopped Mordad and his men. It would have just raised the body count."

"You don't know that."

"And you don't know that anything could have changed what happened, Oreius."

"I will not lose you!" Oreius shouted and stamped a hoof. "Not again. I have vowed to protect you and I will do everything in my power to do so. You are the Princess Royal and I should have added to your guard as soon as that became known. Your recklessness has nearly led to your death far too many times for comfort. More guards will deter any assassins who think they might pick you off."

Alambiel slashed her hand through the air. "No! You do not have the right to arbitrarily assign guards to me."

The Kentauri watched her, unmoved. "I am the General. It is both my right and my duty to make these decisions regarding the safety and protection of the royals, of whom you are one."

She stepped closer to him and hissed, "Stop it! Stop talking to me as though I am an assignment. I may be a royal, Oreius, and I might even be one of your soldiers when it suits me but as of nineteen days ago I am your wife first. This is not a decision you should have made without talking to me about it."

"You would not have agreed and I will not let you endanger yourself."

Alambiel spread her arms wide, a bitter laugh breaking free. "So instead you would go behind my back? Why? What happened to make you do that?"

"There was a death threat against you and-"

She scoffed, "A death threat?" Storming over to the pile of letters she had left on the table that morn, Alambiel grabbed them and began opening them. "Let's see what I received today. Ah, a death threat. And look there's two more. Accusation of being a witch. Marriage proposal. Death threat. Death threat. Witch. Marriage proposal. Report from Hadassah House. Death threat. Witch. Marriage proposal. Witch. Witch. Oh this one is just being rude. Death threat. Report. Report. Report. Death threat. Witch. Witch. Insane witch who needs to die. And that's just the first quarter of them." She shook the letters at him. "I get death threats all the time. Only one in thirty are actually worth a dab of concern! You are being paranoid!"

Oreius glared. "This is no jest or joke. You cannot flippantly dismiss death threats out of hand. Does your life mean so little to you?"

"I don't have a death wish, Oreius. But I'm not going to live in fear of possibilities and unknowns, not anymore. You're the one who taught me that, by the way."

She turned away, intending to leave before the argument grew any messier and she said something she would regret. An iron grasp encircled her upper arm and propelled her to face Oreius. The impassive as stone mask was finally cracking and she could see the fury flickering in his eyes. "I never said to throw your life away. I never said to act the fool. You are a target and the guards will protect you when I am not there to do so."

"You are acting as though I cannot protect myself." Alambiel strained to break his grasp, which was pulling her up so she balanced on the balls of her feet though she doubted he even realized it, but she remained caught. She looked at him, no longer attempting to hide or subdue her anger. "I am not a fragile princess who will break at any moment's notice. I am not weak and I am perfectly capable of defending myself. I do not need you to protect me, Oreius."

"Because you defended yourself against Mordad so very well." He abruptly released her arm and she settled back on her heels. "I will not rescind the orders. And until I can trust you not to play the fool, I will allow Iphicles and the others to continue under their belief that they are only to answer to me in regards to their dismissal. You may lock them out of our bedchamber but they _will_ accompany you everywhere else."

Alambiel took a deep breath but the acidic retort died on her lips as a soft knock sounded at the doors. "General Oreius?"

She whirled around and locked herself in the bedchamber. Only after she heard Oreius open the main doors and speak to whichever soldier needed his attention did she look in the mirror of her dressing table. She reached up in surprise to touch the wet lines tears of anger and hurt had left on her cheeks. She poured some water into the basin and scrubbed at her face but it did nothing to soothe the angry turmoil within. Oreius was paranoid and he clung to the events of last year far more than he should but she could have forgiven him that easily, even been understanding of his need to protect her. But he had gone behind her back and treated her as though she were incapable child. That she could not forgive so easily.

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Oreius stood next to Alambiel, accepting yet another round of felicitations from one of the diplomatic parties visiting the Cair. He did not look at his wife and he wondered at the fact that none had noticed the strain between them. A strain that should not be present among newlyweds. Though Alambiel rested her hand on his arm and smiled with an artless perfection at their well-wishers, she never looked at him or even spoke to him beyond what was required to maintain appearances. They did not dance either. Instead, Oreius contrived to keep them occupied with making the rounds with the guests and being careful not to linger overlong with Tuulea and Stonebrook who might guess at their troubles.

The strain grew as the evening wore on until he felt he might slice through it with a sword as they finally found an opportunity to escape. Alambiel said nothing when they entered their quarters. Oreius frowned, his temper yet frayed and his patience in short supply. "Do you intend to sulk all night?"

"I have nothing to say to you."

He watched her walk into their bedchamber without even a glance over her shoulder. Clenching his fists, he wheeled about and entered his study. Peridan had been scheduled to go out on patrol tomorrow morn when one of the soldiers brought word that the knight had suffered the ignominious fate of tripping over a toy one of his children had left lying out. Peridan apparently tumbled down the flight of stairs leading from the family's quarters as a result, breaking his leg in two places. Oreius still needed to assign a new leader to the patrol.

Three hours later, Oreius gave up on his attempted distraction. He had only stared at the blank parchment as he relived the argument with Alambiel during that time. He would have to assign a new patrol leader in the morn after training with the Kings and Sir Delos. Alambiel was already asleep when he came in but for the first time since they married, since he had asked her to leave her hair loose when she could, she had her hair neatly braided and was curled on the edge of the bed as far from his side as she could reach and still be in the bed. Oreius' mouth tightened when he saw the pillow she had placed at her back in addition to the one she clutched in her arms.

It was a childish way to punish him. Even more childish than refusing to speak to him. But he would let her sulk if that was her wish. Oreius looked at her again and then shook his head. He went back to his study and began to look over the report Iphicles had prepared on Alambiel's activities that day.

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"Are you certain about this?"

Alambiel glanced at Ptah as she tightened Pepin's girth. "You don't have to come. And someone has to go in Peridan's place."

The Leopard bared his teeth in a grimace. "I would not stay for anything."

"Then stop complaining and come on." Alambiel hid a wince as Pepin bumped his nose against her bruised arm. Angry and hurt as she was over Oreius' handling of the guards, she was glad the bruise would be almost completely faded by the time she returned. The Kentauri would never forgive himself if he realized he had left a mark on her out of anger. _Besides_, she thought as she swung up onto the gelding's back, _time and distance usually helps cool our heads. And distance is something we can't get easily anymore._

Pepin responded to the light touch of her heels and trotted out of the stables to meet the rest of patrol. She raised her chin slightly as she observed the soldiers. "Let's go."

With any luck, the patrol would be well on its way to Glasswater before the troublesome trio realized she had left the library.

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Oreius frowned as soon as he saw the folded sheet of parchment resting on top of his reports again. If it was another message from whoever had dared to threaten Alambiel, he would show it to her and hopefully that would force the stubborn mare to admit the guard was necessary. But the script was not known to him. Rather, it was as recognizable as his own. Alambiel's script revealed a simple message:

_General Oreius,_

_I have taken the liberty of leading the patrol in Sir Shalott's place. I expect we shall return in three to four weeks. _

_Dame Sepphora_

_P.S. I took the Leopard and left the Fool's court._

"Fool's court, indeed, my lady," Oreius grumbled as he crumpled the note. He told her there was a death threat against her and she chose to wander the length and breadth of all Narnia for weeks on end. Yes, she was stubborn. Stubborn and foolish and clever enough to know that without a tangible threat against her, he could not demand she and the patrol return. Indeed, though he was loath to admit it, the patrol might add a layer of protection by rendering Alambiel's whereabouts more difficult to predict. But when she returned…when she returned, Dame Sepphora would learn there were still consequences for rash decisions.

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**A/N: Please Read and Review! Uh oh, trouble in paradise already. Back to Markus next chapter. Lots and lots of Oberon too. In the meantime, leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	5. Chapter Five: Questions without Answers

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: A sorcerer challenged by Aslan. Love and friendship alike are tested by his presence. And the Gentle Queen faces her own challenge when the sorcerer's true colors are unveiled.

A/N: If you have not read the first eight stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc (_Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, and Veiled_), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Five: Questions without Answers

24 Greenroof 1009

"Hey-ho! Hey-ho! To and fro! To and fro! Sing out did the Lion! Sing out did He! Call out you and me! Out from darkness and to the light! Out from darkness to His Sight! Hey-ho! Hey-ho!"

Markus grimaced as the song continued, penetrating the thick veil of sleep. He opened his eyes then blinked in surprise at the brightly glowing shapes above him, not orbs but glowing men and women who danced in intricate patterns. The Leopard, the Ship, and all of the other Narnian constellations were being danced across the ceiling. He could sense no magic but, to his chagrin, he was forced to admit that it was unlikely he could sense any magic now that his own was blinded.

The singing mercifully stopped and a low laugh filled the air. "Ah, awakes now the stubborn one." Markus heard wood strike wood, a hollow thumping sound accompanied by lighter footsteps. He sat up instinctively and reached for his magic. It didn't come. Pain lanced across his chest and a groan escaped as he pressed his hand against the bandages swathed around his torso. "Ah, stay still wise it would be, my friend."

"I am not your friend."

"But your friend Oberon is," the crazy old man grinned as he raised one gnarled finger and laid it against the side of his nose, "and even the stubborn one you are cannot halt Oberon in that."

"I do not want your friendship," Markus snapped, ignoring the pain when he took too deep a breath. Ignoring his body's protestations, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and shoved up. The room spun but he ignored it.

"Easy to ignore the warnings. Foolish, though, very foolish." The man moved with surprising agility, hitting him over the head with his staff. Markus flinched instinctively as he reached up to rub his head but Oberon ignored this as he tapped the staff against his shoulder. "The question for now is this and simple it is—will you continue? Ignore warnings and go you to your doom foolishly? Or will his ways the stubborn one change? That question asks the Great Lion."

A hot retort sprang to Markus' lips but it found no release as he stared into brown eyes that suddenly seemed piercing. This man who was not a man, he remembered now watching from the shadows as Medea raged over Oberon's continued existence. The man who was not a man. No more a Son of Adam than Markus himself but even Medea did not know what he was, only that he served the Great Lion. And Markus, who never feared to meet Jadis' eyes, found it impossible to continue to hold the strange elder's gaze. He looked away. "He should have let me die."

"Which time?"

He tensed then forced the bitter words out, "Both. I am not worth saving."

"Who is?" Oberon smiled knowingly when he looked up sharply. "None are but the Great Lion, says He the worthless are His and worth beyond measure He gives you and me. The One who saves we who are nothing called you He has. What answer give you?"

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28 Greenroof 1009

_"__What answer give you?"_

Markus shook his head, seeking to expel the memory of those words but still they burned him. They burned more than magic itself as they secreted their way into his thoughts during the day and his dreams in the night, constantly there, waiting, watching, searching, weighing him. He rolled his shoulders then swung his arms, attempting to avoid knocking into any of the precariously piled stacks of books. It was nonsense, of course. Mere words could not weigh him. No matter the power hidden within Oberon.

The man looked up from his work recording something in a very thick book. "Get you outside."

"What do you mean?"

"Mean?" Those brown eyes twinkled with hidden knowledge. "Get you outside Oberon means. Get ere Oberon his staff take to the stubborn one for books toppling."

Markus continued to stare at the elder. "I am your prisoner. Prisoners are not allowed outside."

"Not mine. Not His. No, not by Him or me be you imprisoned."

"You speak nonsense." Markus turned on his heel to leave this house and its peculiar occupant far behind. He would go somewhere else. The islands perhaps. Yes, they would be better than retreating into the wilds with the Fell when he could no longer defend himself, could no longer put them in their place. But he stopped before he had even rounded the corner of the nearest bookshelf. Turning around, he narrowed his eyes. "Whose prisoner am I then?" When Oberon did not immediately look up from scratching at the parchment, he took three large strides closer to the cluttered desk. "If I am not your prisoner and if I am not Aslan's prisoner, whose am I?"

"Why think you are a prisoner, Markus?"

He stepped back then pressed his lips together as he raised his chin. "My magic is gone. I am no more free to go than if I were in chains."

"Ah, Oberon see now. Imprisoned Markus is by Markus."

"Impossible." But something inside felt a pang. Markus turned away running his hand over the beard roughening his jaw as he searched for the source. It did not come from his magic, that was still cold and empty and dark. He repressed a shudder at the reminder of his powerlessness. No, the pang came from somewhere else.

"But feel it you do. In heart Markus feels the truth."

The pang came again along with the longing to ask for confirmation of…of what? Forgiveness? Markus silently scoffed at his own foolishness. The Great Lion had already judged him.

"Judgment delayed Aslan has. Given time you are to make you this choice. Called you He has. What answer give you?"

Markus opened his mouth, shut it, and then strode out of the room, not slowing until he stood in the sheltered glade. His breathing was harsh to his own ears but this he dismissed as a result of his healing injuries, never mind that they had already healed to the point that they should not have affected him. He clenched his fists. The old fool knew nothing. Nothing of him or his deeds. For if he did, then he would know that it was too late. He had done too much, spilled too much blood, and lain too long in evil's bed to ever be forgiven. He no longer had a soul. He could not be rescued. He had fallen too far.

Markus dropped into a crouch and attempted to clear his mind. He needed to work on battering down the barrier the Lion had placed between him and his magic. His magic was his life. Even his skill as a warrior would not be enough if he could not regain his magic, not to live in his world. He slowed his breathing, listening to the sounds of the forest. The birds chirped and twittered to each other, squirrels scolded, the wind rustled through the leaves of the trees. He reached for his magic, feeling his way along the barrier, searching for a crack he could expand. _"What answer give you?"_

His eyes flew open and he gasped. It had not been Oberon's voice nor the hissing, soft voice that had so often urged him to pursue the harsher course of action, that had promised his magic would be freed if he killed Narnia's Kings. The Voice had been rich, golden, and swept over him with a sense of light that he both yearned for and wanted to hide from as it shone piercingly bright. Nothing would remain hidden. He would see and He would know every little thing Markus had done. He already did know. And yet…and yet, Oberon expected him to believe that Aslan wanted him.

_Him._ The sorcerer who had sought the destruction of His chosen. The sorcerer who never believed in Him save as the Enemy. That was asking far too much. The bushes rustled and Markus tensed. Moving cautiously, he tugged the large ax out of the stump next to the woodpile. The bushes rustled some more and then a graceful doe stepped into the glade, her leaf-like ears twitching and swiveling. She paused to look at him with her liquid brown eyes but then she flicked her tail and picked her way across the glade…towards him.

Markus' hand tightened around the ax's haft as she came closer, sniffing. Quivering but unafraid as she nosed his free hand. He looked down at her, at her long white neck. It would take nothing to kill her, to use the doe's fresh blood and pain for a blood magic spell. It should be strong enough to break the seal. But the ax slipped from his grasp, landing in the grass with a dull thud. The thought of using a blood magic spell made his mouth turn dry. He had never cared for using those spells in general, too risky, but this felt different. It felt as though the very fiber of his being rebelled at the thought of such foul magic, the kind that came not from inherent talent but from others' pain and suffering.

The doe nudged his hand again and Markus reached up to scoop out the feed corn he had watched Oberon set out in the bucket atop the woodpile that morn. He offered it to the doe and she ate without fear. She should be afraid to be in the presence of such a monster as he, though.

Perhaps he no longer knew himself. The thought was most uncomfortable.

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33 Greenroof 1009

"You cannot have it both ways. It is impossible for evil to be redeemed."

"Though corrupted good may be?" Oberon chuckled as he took a long draw of his pipe and then exhaled smoke rings of varying sizes. "If corrupted good may be, so too redeemed may evil be. Hope it gives."

Markus frowned as he scrubbed the large pot the crazy old man had been using earlier to mix poultices. "False hope. Some fall too far and can never be redeemed."

"Only when that decision they make or run out of time they do. Calls Aslan does then our task it is to choose how we respond."

"What of Jadis? She could not be redeemed, could she?"

Oberon's kind features hardened and he scowled as he leaned forward, pointing his pipe stem at him. "Her choice before Narnia's infancy that Witch did make. She chose death. Long in coming, but claimed her it has."

Markus looked down and scrubbed harder. "We came from the same world. Is my fate not as sealed as Hers?"

"What answer do you give?"

There was that question again. It both appealed and repelled though Markus was beginning to find that it appealed more than it repelled. That was not what he should feel. Not where Aslan was concerned. He had been trained to hate the Great Cat, to set himself against Him and His chosen. He should cast his lot with Jadis and Her kin. But that way lay only death and destruction and despair. His mind called up the way he had watched the dark-haired King and Lew's Daughter defy Medea, defy the darkness even though each of them had been touched by it. But surely the grip darkness had on those two had been less sure than the one it had on him. The younger King had been Jadis' puppet, though. She had owned him…until the Lion redeemed him with His own Life.

But surely that was not for him. He, Markus, had done too much for far longer than that boy to be worthy of redemption. How was redemption even possible now?

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**A/N: Please Read and Review! Soooo the sorcerer is starting to ask some very important questions. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	6. Chapter Six: Cross Purposes

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: A sorcerer challenged by Aslan. Love and friendship alike are tested by his presence. And the Gentle Queen faces her own challenge when the sorcerer's true colors are unveiled.

A/N: If you have not read the first eight stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc (_Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, and Veiled_), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Six: Cross Purposes

9 Sunbend 1009

It had been almost a fortnight since Alambiel took charge of the patrol. Oreius rested his forearms against the balcony railing as he watched the celebration taking place below. Had the revelries not been winding down at last, he would not have removed himself. But he had grown weary of avoiding too many questions about why Alambiel had gone instead of allowing another officer to go. It had to be the long patrol.

Oreius shook his head then left the balcony. His gaze travelled over the bedchamber that seemed oddly cold and empty. He had not thought, had not guessed that it would feel this way since they had only spent five days sharing these quarters and he had lived in them alone and content for nine years. But he had already spent almost as much time separated from his wife as he had with her during their marriage. Why did it have to be the long patrol?

He quickly retreated to his study then stopped. A sealed missive lay in the center of his desk. His name was written on the front and he felt the strain ease slightly as he recognized Alambiel's script. Oreius tore open the missive then slid out the single sheet of parchment. _This cannot continue. It was a fool's choice, this marriage. I will not return to you._

"What?" Oreius could not believe that Alambiel would write something like this, no matter how miffed she was over the guards. She would not do this. He frowned at the parchment, studying the script more closely. Oreius unlocked the center drawer, yanked it open, and then pulled out the note Alambiel had left concerning her decision to head the patrol. Placing the two missives side by side, he could see the subtle and very few differences in the forms of the letters. The forger's attempted deception was very good but their choice of words had been completely wrong. He could not imagine Alambiel taking such recourse. His Alambiel who never feared to argue with him when she thought he was in the wrong. Yes, she might grow angry enough to feel she needed to retreat, but he would never think her so cruel as to write him this sort of missive.

No, she would not. The proof was before him. But this forger was very good. And that made whoever it was dangerous. Oreius considered the parchment again and then locked it away along with the real note from Alambiel. He would speak to one of the Sparrows. Yes, Ruffalo, he would be a good choice. The most discreet among the Birds and small enough that he would not be seen unless he revealed himself. Yes, Ruffalo would keep watch over his study and see who was leaving the missives or was carrying them on another's behalf. And as soon as his wife returned, Oreius would show her the evidence.

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The stars shone above her, ethereal in their distant beauty. For a moment, she looked up at them and allowed herself to imagine that Oreius had wrapped his arms around her and was rumbling the meaning behind the stars' dance that night in her ear.

"My Lady?"

Alambiel started slightly then turned her head to the right. Ptah was watching her, his eyes gleaming in the darkness. "Is there a report?"

"No." The Leopard padded silently across the grass and sat next to her, still watching her closely. "My Lady, are you all right?"

She glanced back down the hill where the rest of the patrol had made camp and set a watch then lowered her voice. "Not as much as I could be."

Ptah rested one heavy paw on her shoulder. "Are you still angry with your mate? The General only wants to protect you."

"I know," she whispered. "I know that's what he wants but the way he went about it…hurt."

"My understanding is that the first year of marriage can be the most difficult, especially when it is between two soldiers. But is your hurt pride enough?"

Alambiel shook her head. "There was more to it than pride, Ptah. Although that was dented too. But, I'm not a child…I should know better than to run away just because I'm…I'm…"

"Afraid?"

She glanced at him then rested her hand between his ears, stroking lightly. "Maybe I do need some new guards. Ones who can't read me as well as you can." The Leopard chuffed and she smiled slightly, still petting his fur. "The details are ones that must be addressed to Oreius and not you, my dear friend. But thank you anyway." She kissed him between his ears.

"I am here when you need me, My Lady."

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Alambiel jerked upright, gasping for breath. She looked around but there was no one else there save for Ptah who still lay with his forepaws crossed over her legs even though he was now awake and watching her. She swallowed hard then scrambled to her feet. "Rouse the others. We need to go into the Western March."

"But that will cause us to miss the next checkpoint and we do not know if the Fell have retreated far from the border."

"Do as I say." Alambiel patted her knives, calming slightly when she felt the hilts. She glanced at the Leopard and repeated in a softer tone, "Just do it, Ptah. Trust me. We need to go there. It's important."

"Yes, Dame Sepphora."

As the Leopard picked his way down the hill, Alambiel wiped the cold sweat from her brow. The dream wasn't one she could ignore. Whatever they found beyond Narnia's northwestern border, it was important. It was vital to Narnia's survival that she reach it first.

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**A/N: Please Read and Review! Don't you just love complications and mysteries? :) Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	7. Chapter Seven: Decisions, Decisions

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: A sorcerer challenged by Aslan. Love and friendship alike are tested by his presence. And the Gentle Queen faces her own challenge when the sorcerer's true colors are unveiled.

A/N: If you have not read the first eight stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc (_Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, and Veiled_), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Seven: Decisions, Decisions

Edmund exchanged a worried glance with Peter before they both turned to Oreius. The Centaur's face was as impassive as always but Edmund still caught a glimpse of worry lingering beneath. "The patrol that Kat's leading has just disappeared?"

The General moved one of the markers. "They were last seen here, crossing the border, two days ago. For some reason, Dame Sepphora drove the patrol to march through the night instead of making camp as the scouts assumed and they have lost their trail."

Examining the map, Edmund frowned then tapped one of the passes. "This leads to the Western March. Could they have gone that way?"

"But why?" his brother asked then added, "There weren't any reports of Fell lingering along the border. They've well and truly dispersed from what your spies last reported, Ed."

"I know." Edmund's frown deepened. "I don't think Kat's going to chase after the Fell Giants, though. They're busy fighting each other again this year. Too busy squabbling to target Narnia herself."

"Werewolves?"

Edmund looked at Peter and then they both turned to Oreius. Edmund scrambled to think of a diplomatic way to say what he was now suspecting. But, he couldn't. He could only hope that Oreius didn't feel the breach of etiquette serious enough to warrant visiting the points of the compass. "Oreius, could… Well, did you actually assign Kat to head the patrol? Or did she just…leave?"

The Centaur looked up from the map slowly and raised an eyebrow. "If you are attempting to ask me whether my wife has decided to run away, My King, I assure you that is not the case. I do not know why Dame Sepphora has diverted the patrol but I trust we shall learn it was necessary." He set another marker on the pass leading to the Western March and added, "She would not run away with an entire patrol in any case. Too much work."

Peter cleared his throat. "Should we search for them or wait for their eventual return?"

Edmund glanced at their General then shook his head, addressing his brother, "Might as well wait. Kat hates interference anyway. Besides, we need-"

The doors burst open and his Wolves yipped and howled or rather, one of them yipped and howled while the other was carrying a snarling Badger. "Yer blamed fools! Put me down! I'll rip ya apart!"

"Oh, no," Edmund breathed just before the Wolves pranced over to him. He glared at them. "Romulus! Remus! Put Sophocles down."

The Greyback twin who was not currently holding the Badger tilted his head with a confused but still earnest light in his yellow eyes. "But King Edmund, we heard him this time! He was plotting against the Princess Royal and the Gentle and the General!"

"Yer outta yer blooming mind!"

Edmund heard Peter cough behind him and shot a poisonous glare at his brother, who wasn't doing a very good job of hiding his amusement. This was all Peter's fault. He turned his attention back to those blasted Wolves and snapped, "Put Sophocles down, Remus!"

The Wolf pup immediately dropped the Badger at his feet and wagged his tail, giving him a wide doggy grin with his pink tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. "We caught the traitor, King Edmund! We caught him!"

Romulus nodded. "And he keeps trying to murder us so you don't find out about him!"

Sophocles let out a hissing growl and shook his fist at the Wolves. "I'll rip yer noses clean off! Gettin' where decent folks canna enjoy their burrows in peace. And ya put holes in me house again. Knocked over _two_ bookcases, two!"

Edmund raised his voice. "All right, enough!" When the Wolves continued to growl at Sophocles, Edmund pointed at them and snapped, "Come here." They finally seemed to realize he was not happy with their hunting. Their heads dropped and their tails drooped until firmly tucked between their legs as they sank to their bellies and crawled around to either side of him. "Do not move and don't speak." Satisfied the Greyback twins wouldn't have any more outbursts (for a few minutes at least), Edmund turned back to the cantankerous Badger. "Master Sophocles, I apologize again for the Greybacks trespassing on your home again. I assure you this incident will not repeat itself."

The Badger huffed. "Should hope not, yer majesty. Don't be needin' a bunch of Wolves runnin' 'round and terrorizing loyal Narnians again. Bad memories there, yer majesty, bad memories there."

He flushed but bowed slightly. "I understand, Sophocles, and I will ensure that they understand it too. However, might you enlighten us as to what caused my Wolves to misunderstand your intentions this time?"

Sophocles peered up at him then sniffed. "I was mindin' me own business, that's what happened. Had ta go about in the day ta see Queen Lucy. Invited me ta tea, she did. Then I get back ta me burrow, intendin' ta catch some sleep and these bloomin' fools began ripping into me house!"

"Did you and our sister discuss the Gentle and the Princess Royal and the General?"

The Badger looked down his nose at him, his disdain for the question written clearly across his masked face. "The Queen Lucy be allowed ta discuss whomever she wants, I 'spect. She merely told me that she was sorry the Gentle was too busy dealin' with some poppycock ta join the tea party. I said I was glad the Princess Royal was away from the Cair. Woman leaves too much trouble in her wake. Queen Lucy asked why I be sayin' so and I tells her majesty that the Princess Royal caused the General himself ta gallop atop me burrow, shook the entire place. Much easier when she's away from the Cair then iffen the General gallop atop any other burrows, it won't be mine, ya see?"

Edmund didn't dare glance behind him at Oreius. Peter made a half-strangled sound. Oh, he hoped his lummox of a brother didn't get them sentenced to visit the points of the compass because he laughed at the wrong time. Edmund cleared his throat twice and then asked very carefully, "I do see. Thank you for clearing the matter up for us, Master Sophocles. I apologize again for the damage done to your home and the interruption to your day. This will not happen again."

The old Badger sniffed then waddled out the door, muttering to himself about blamed Wolves. Edmund clenched his fists and then breathed out slowly as he turned his attention to the Wolves. Blast Peter for giving him such green pups. He took another deep breath and then let it out slowly. "How many times must I tell you to leave that Badger alone?"

The Wolves whined, looking up at him with the most heartbroken of expressions. Remus whined again. "We thought he's a traitor."

"Why? How many times have I told you that Sophocles is not a traitor or a spy or in any way an enemy?" Edmund scowled and began pacing. "If you keep this up, I'll have to agree to the last proposal the good General made concerning my guard. If I can't trust you two to stop pestering Sophocles, you'll have to go back through basic training and the General will assign me different personal guards."

The twin yelps of alarm made him wince inside but he only crossed his arms and looked down at them in utter seriousness. Remus reached out to paw at his boot, whimpering, "Don't make us leave, Alpha."

"We want to stay with you. You're our Alpha."

"Can you behave yourselves and leave Sophocles alone?"

The Wolves exchanged worried glances and then looked up at him, their hearts in their eyes. "Yes, Alpha."

Remus wagged his tail tentatively. "We can, Alpha. We promise. We won't bother Sophocles anymore even if he does smell funny and doesn't like coming out in the daytime."

Edmund stopped then groaned. "Have you been suspicious of him because he's nocturnal?"

"Yes." Remus paused then tilted his head. "What's nocturnal?"

Peter abruptly walked to the other side of the room, shoulders shaking. Edmund ignored the urge to shove him into a mud pit or maybe just a room full of his greatest admirers with Freddie in the lead. That venerable lady was still unwed and still fixated on Peter. Instead, he rubbed his forehead. "It means that Sophocles prefers to sleep during the day and go about his business at night. Just like the night watch and the Owls and some of the Lemurs."

His Wolves exchanged looks. Then Remus narrowed his eyes. "Then why's he sneaking around the gardens in the daytime?"

"To have tea with Lucy and to repair the damage you did to his home." Edmund shook his head slowly. "Now I want you two to listen very carefully. The two of you cannot go around accusing anyone who doesn't smell familiar of being Fell or spies. Sophocles has not tried to murder you. All he did was scratch your noses because you were sticking them where they didn't belong and digging up his home. You've been bothering him for a year now and I've had enough. Bother Sophocles again and I'll have to let the General put you two back in basic training and he'll probably assign members of the Windwolf pack to be my new guards."

"We won't bother him again, Alpha!"

Remus nodded, wagging his tail enthusiastically as he leapt to his feet and bumped Edmund's hand with his nose. "We promise! We promise! We'll only bring you the real traitors and spies!"

Edmund worked hard not to smile. "All right, I'm trusting you both to keep your word and not forget this time. Now I have to go to another meeting. I want you two to go inspect the largest training yard and make a report about the creatures who visited it in the last three hours, from newest to oldest scents mind."

"Yes, Alpha!" His Wolves yipped in excitement then tore out of the room. Remus stepped on Bast's tail as he went and just avoided the Tigress' reprimanding swat.

"No running!" Edmund called after them, knowing it was too late to even hope they would listen to that particular admonishment. Peter snickered and Edmund glared at him. "This is all your fault."

"Mine?" His brother placed his thumb on the center of his chest while gazing at Edmund inquiringly.

"Yes, yours," Edmund retorted. "You're the one who gave them to me. All the headaches their antics have caused me are your fault, you great lummox."

Peter's mouth twitched and then he snickered. "But, they really just want to please their alpha. And you're always saying you need to practice being diplomatic."

"No I don't!"

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't!"

"Yes, Edmund, you do."

"No, I don't!"

"Your Majesties." Oreius waited until they were both looking at him before he continued, "I will set scouts to watch for the return of Dame Seppora's patrol. And you are late for your meeting."

Edmund cleared his throat then nodded. "Thank you, Oreius." He shoved Peter lightly. "Come on before you get us into trouble."

"Me? I rather thought that was your Wolves' specialty." Peter sidestepped before he could elbow him.

The brothers jostled each other as they walked down the corridor then Edmund shoved his brother a little harder. "I hope you're not planning to give Thalia food poisoning for your anniversary, Pete."

"She likes my cooking. Why don't you believe me?"

Edmund looked at him then deadpanned, "Because I've tasted your cooking. Not to mention it's just bad manners for the High King of Narnia to give his wife food poisoning in some misguided attempt to be silly and romantic and all that flimflam."

Peter shook his head. "I say you're just too picky when it comes to food, Ed. Besides, I have something very nice planned for our anniversary already so I don't need your input, brother mine." He paused and gave him a little grin. "Besides, you're the one who decided to threaten your Wolves into behaving by mentioning a year-old suggestion."

"I didn't threaten them. I just…capitalized on their intense rivalry with the Windwolf pack." Edmund smirked. "Besides, I never said it was a recent suggestion. And if it keeps them from digging up Sophocles again, so much the better."

His brother nodded thoughtfully then laughed.

"What?"

Peter grinned. "You know they'll probably just find some other cantankerous Badger to dig up and bring to you."

"Lion preserve us!" At his brother's laugh, Edmund feigned one of his own…until they rounded the corner and he stuck his foot out to trip Peter before he dashed past him, snickering.

"I'll get you for that, Pevensie!"

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13 Sunbend 1009

He was glad for the dull burn in his arms and shoulders and back as he continued to swing the ax, chopping the wood logs into a more manageable size for the fire. A single lantern sat on the woodpile, shining bright and undaunted as Markus continued chopping firewood in spite of dark around him. He needed to expend energy somehow and he cared not to take up his katana. Not yet, at least. Oberon's latest challenge to him continued to ring in his ears but Markus grit his teeth against the urge to go back inside and ask the crazy old man how what he said could be true. How could the Lion want him?

"Impossible," he growled under his breath and swung the ax with more vehemence. Impossible, yes. And very foolish. How could one who had served evil for so long, had allied himself so closely with the Fell that he declared himself to be _of_ them, be redeemed by the Lion? It was different with the dark-haired king. Aslan had a special fondness for the fallible children of Adam and Eve. Constantly showing them mercy undeserved even when they did not realize it. He was not one of them, though. Nor was he of Narnia. He was of Charn like Jadis. There could be no redemption for him. He had fallen too far and he knew it.

Then why? Why did he not leave? Oberon had made it clear that he was not a prisoner and was free to leave whenever he chose but still Markus found himself lingering. His injuries long healed and yet he lingered. Why?

"I want to understand." He spoke the words aloud, finally admitting the truth that had been following in his shadow for so long. Yes, he wanted to understand why Oberon continued to instruct him on Aslan and His ways, on why all were considered worthy in His eyes no matter how worthless and pitiful their lives might be or at least appear to be. And…and he wanted to understand why Aslan continued to spare him. Why did He spare him and why would He call _him_?

"Chosen you He has, that be why. But still refuse the stubborn one does to hear truth."

Markus buried the ax head in the stump and turned to face Oberon. The crazy elder's eyes twinkled as he lay one gnarled finger along the side of his nose. "Now thinks Oberon be Markus ready to hear, to see, to choose."

"I can't be chosen." His argument sounded weak to his own ears and his heart wrestled with his mind. Yearning wrestled against knowing. "I've done too much."

"No." The hand that landed on his shoulder was gnarled but still possessed strength. Oberon squeezed then repeated, "No. Only too much if Markus refuse. The gift offered Aslan has will not leave, not before his choice Markus makes."

He looked out into the darkness, panting slightly from exertion. "Every gift I have used against Him. Every time I have set my will against His, striving to eliminate His light in His servants. I cannot make up for that, Oberon."

He winced at the sharp blow from the staff and reached up to rub his skull, wondering at the absence of a knot. Oberon poked him in the chest with the end of the staff. "None make their past sins and failings up. And asks for this Aslan does not. He knows! Knows He trials and temptations and sufferings! Knows He and mercy He grants. Even to a star, tumbling down from heavens, Aslan mercy shows. From the skies banished he was but humbled and penitent to Aslan he returned. Uses him the Great Lion does to give messages, friendship, and guidance as he can."

"That is different."

"How?"

Markus opened his mouth to set forth the list of faults, of crimes that kept him too low to even look upon the Great Lion. But he had already looked upon the Great Lion…twice. Twice he had looked upon the Great Lion, twice his life had been in his Enemy's paws, and twice his life had been spared. When _he_ had been the enemy, Aslan Himself had looked upon him with mercy and spared him, giving him one more chance to… To choose to accept Him? To accept His proffered mercy? To accept the invitation to be one of His chosen?

He staggered at the realization. Rough wood dug into his shoulders as he leaned against the woodpile, head down. He stared at his hands and realized it had been over two weeks since he had attempted to call for his magic. He had been too preoccupied with the questions and the conversations about the Great Lion. Aslan. A Name he no longer despised. Had not despised since he first began to listen to Oberon's words. Now the Name called to him, intrigued him, and made him yearn cautiously for more. But to hope for more would be to admit that Oberon was correct. He, Markus of the Fell and once of Charn, had been chosen by the Great Lion and offered the chance to choose to accept His invitation.

Falling to his knees, Markus raised his head just as the dawn's pale light began to peek over the trees. "What must I do?"

Oberon knelt in front of him, placing one gnarled hand on his shoulder and the other against his chest. "You must choose and accept. In here." He patted Markus' chest. "The choice will Markus take on long road, dangerous. No more look back. Forward look to Aslan. Aslan no more sees evil, fallen path, Markus no more sees. Past lessons take but not guilt. All forgiven and gone."

He could hardly believe it. How could it be that Aslan who was all that is good and pure and light would simply look no more on his past sins? Because…because that was mercy and that was grace. Markus looked up at the lightening eastern horizon. He still did not feel his magic, that perhaps was gone forever, but it no longer mattered for he felt something far greater, far more humbling and inspiring. He felt Aslan's presence in the glade, even though he could not see the Great Lion, and he whispered, "I choose You. Make me Yours, Great Aslan."

The burdens of so many years, of so many sins and all he had done in Jadis' name, in the name of the Fell, and in his own name, fell away. The fear and unease that had long plagued him retreated and that hissing, sly voice wailed once then was silenced. Markus remained on his knees as the light grew beyond that of the dawn. He did not see Aslan but he heard His voice clearly, "Welcome, Markus, My son. Tarry with Oberon and learn from him for a week's time. Then ask Oberon what you must do next. Be of good courage, Markus, and remember you are Mine."

Then the light faded to that of the pink and orange tendrils curling across the lightening sky. Markus saw Oberon watching him with a father's pride shining in his brown eyes. He drew a deep breath as he rose to his feet and then bowed. "Teach me, please."

"Feed her."

Markus paused at the enigmatic response and then turned to see the little doe had indeed returned for her morning feed. He smiled slightly then scooped some feed corn out of the bucket resting next to the wood pile and held it out to her. "Here, Lily." He had dubbed her that after coming across her standing in the middle of a lily pond and had heartily avoided examining the reason he had given the vulnerable little doe any name at all. The doe twitched her tail then delicately picked her way toward him. She bumped his hand, swiveling her leaf-like ears, and then remained content to munch on the feed corn while Markus idly stroked her long graceful neck.

Oberon chuckled as he pulled out his pipe and lit it. "Before Markus pretty Lily knew his heart changing. Approach she would not if Markus smelt of danger and threat." He blew out a ring of smoke and then added, "Lesson one."

Markus smiled. The peace felt so odd but it was welcoming after so many, many years of turmoil. He wondered what it was Aslan wanted him to do after this week of learning. Whatever it was, he was certain that he would do it gladly.

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**A/N: Please Read and Review! Those Wolves! And Markus' journey just took another interesting turn, don't you think? I hope it inspires you to remember why we celebrate Jesus' birth tomorrow, not simply because He was born but because His birth heralded the end of the age of separation from God's holiness. The Babe in the manger brings hope because we know the end of the story, His birth was the beginning of the Life that has brought and continues to bring thousands hope and light in the midst of the darkness of our world. I am going to try for another chapter by Christmas proper but if not, I hope and pray all of you and your families have a very merry Christmas this year. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**

**A/N2: Merry Christmas Eve!**


	8. Chapter Eight: Of the Dame &the Sorcerer

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: A sorcerer challenged by Aslan. Love and friendship alike are tested by his presence. And the Gentle Queen faces her own challenge when the sorcerer's true colors are unveiled.

A/N: If you have not read the first eight stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc (_Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, and Veiled_), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Eight: Of the Dame and the Sorcerer

"Dame Sepphora?"

Alambiel stood still, ignoring everything as she focused on the lake and its surroundings. It was familiar to her even though she was certain that she'd never been here before today. It was only mid-afternoon. How long would she have to wait?

"Dame Sepphora?"

"My Lady?"

She barely kept from jumping as she looked over her shoulder. Ptah and Lieutenant Pomeroy stood a respectful distance back although the Leopard was a few paces closer than the bull Elk. "Make camp. We're staying here."

The lieutenant snorted and pawed at the rocky soil of the lakeshore. "For how long?"

"Until it's time to leave."

Alambiel had already returned her attention to the lake, to this place where she prayed the only bright spot in the dream that haunted her nights would indeed occur, when the lieutenant inquired, "We will not leave in the morn?"

"No." She searched the lake's surface, wishing there was some clue as to who or what she was waiting for now. "No, this is where we will wait. Ptah, take Sootpaw and scout the woods. Make sure to loop around the lake. I'd prefer to avoid any surprise visits while we're in the March."

As the Leopard and Elk moved off to carry out their tasks, Alambiel remained on the lakeshore. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as she recalled the smoke and fire and blood that had chased her to a lake in the Western March. The dream continued to haunt her and she could only pray that it would cease once she found who or what was meant to help Narnia survive.

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17 Sunbend 1009

Susan couldn't help smiling as she caught a glimpse of Peter and Thalia in the gardens near Cair Paravel's north tower. Her brother gazed down at his wife with a look of utter adoration then he picked her up and whirled around in a circle.

"I guess he didn't give her harpy-stilts this year either."

She turned to see Edmund watching their brother and sister-in-law. "Harpy-stilts?"

Her younger brother snickered, dark eyes glinting with mischief as he joined her at the railing. "Ask Peter about it at supper tonight. He can explain everything."

Susan's lips parted slightly before she reached out to brush at his tunic. "You look as though you've been wrestling with your Wolves again."

Edmund grinned. "Actually Lucy was playing with my Wolves and they ran into me so you see I'm the victim in all this."

"Mmhmm," she plucked some twigs out of his black hair then frowned as she pulled one lock straight up, "you need a haircut, Ed. This week not sometime next month, understand? I'll talk to your valet about it."

He ducked out of reach immediately, running his hands through his hair, making it stick out at odd angles. Susan almost protested but it was always easier to coax Edmund into cooperating if he didn't feel too pushed. She turned back to where Peter was now dancing Thalia up the path, both of them laughing. "She's been very good for him, don't you think?"

"Yes, perfect for turning him into a ninny." Edmund stepped up beside her, still looking faintly amused as he added, "And I really should thank her for providing me with continuously fresh material with which to blackmail Peter."

"Edmund."

His eyes immediately grew round as he folded his hands over his breast and peered at her with the most innocent of expressions. "Yes, sister dearest?"

Susan bit her cheek to keep from smiling as she shook her finger at him. "Don't you embarrass them like you did when you mentioned puppies last year."

"That wasn't me. That was Remus." Edmund shook his head, scowling faintly. "He doesn't think about what he says before he says it and sometimes not even after he says it."

They both looked back to where Peter and Thalia were still dancing but now they looked into each other's eyes as Peter held her close. The wind shifted and Susan's smile was accompanied by the tiniest of sighs as she caught enough of the words to realize Peter was serenading his bride. "Do you ever wish you had that?"

"I'm not quite nineteen. No."

She swatted him on the arm. "No, silly. I mean that sort of love. Don't you want it, Edmund?"

He looked down at the couple than shrugged. "I guess. One day but not today or tomorrow or anytime this year, thank you. I'm busy. Maybe in five or six years, I might try to meet a girl. Or maybe I'll just let her fall into my life."

Susan laughed. "I suppose only Peter and Lucy will have relatively simple romances."

"Lucy?"

"You haven't noticed?" She turned and walked back inside. A hint of giggle escaped when she heard Edmund hurrying after her.

"Noticed what?" her brother demanded.

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20 Sunbend 1009

It wasn't until dusk that Markus was able to tear himself away from the book on Aslan. He did not know who the author was but there were subtle clues that made him believe that Oberon was at least involved in the recording of the speaker's words. The book and the one containing every lesson Aslan had taught to the Narnians at the Stone Table had kept him awake and asking questions of Oberon each day of the past week. His very being hungered and thirsted to know more, to learn more of Aslan and His ways. He went to bed with questions and rose with them on his lips. He had half-expected Oberon to grow weary of his at times embarrassingly simplistic questions but that crazy old man never seemed to lose his delight in and enthusiasm for teaching Markus more.

With great reluctance, Markus put away the book on Aslan and set aside the smaller book now three-quarters full of his own questions and discoveries. He knew the week was up. Now it was time to go to his teacher and learn what Aslan would have him do next. It was wondrous to him that after spending days contemplating how soon he would be able to leave the elder man, he was now regretting that he could not spend more time with him. Learning at the feet of this wise one, this servant of Aslan, had been a privilege and a pleasure. Under Oberon's tutelage, he had begun to remember what it felt like when his father had trained him to use his innate magic. Only this was even greater for Oberon taught him of his Liege and King.

Oberon was outside, gazing up at the darkening sky as he puffed on his pipe. He did not appear to notice Markus' approach at first then he exhaled slowly, blowing out three rings of smoke. "Time it is, my son. Time it is for called Aslan has and go you must."

Markus stepped closer to him, eager now to hear the Lion's will, eager to serve his new and best Master. "Where does He want me? What does He want me to do?"

"Narnia. To Narnia go you must so says Aslan."

He stood still and silent for several long moments. "The Narnians will not accept me. How can I carry out the task Aslan gives if they will likely execute me at the border for being a fell sorcerer?"

"Provide the way Aslan will." Oberon chuckled. "Perhaps singed better?"

"I do not understand, teacher." Markus watched him closely in the faint light of the stars. There was no moon tonight but that did not stop him from noticing Oberon's amusement. Crazy old man.

"The hunter surrender must to his once prey."

"I am willing to surrender to the Four but how will I live long enough to reach them?"

"Save you Lew's Daughter will."

Markus stiffened. "Lew's Daughter?" He wasn't sure if she would not be even faster to kill him than other soldiers. Not only because of how he had hunted her last year, though he did not think she knew he was involved with Mordad, but because she had seen him on the battlefield. She knew what he was.

"No longer."

When Markus' eyes flew to Oberon's, his teacher smiled kindly. "No longer Markus past. Markus now to Aslan belong. Lew's Daughter Aslan brought for Markus."

He nodded slowly, still struggling with the acceptance that he was no longer Markus of the Fell, the sorcerer who had so diligently hunted Aslan's chosen. Now he too numbered among the Great Lion's children. "Am I to surrender to Lew's Daughter?"

"To the lake go you." Then Oberon pulled him into a surprisingly strong embrace and slapped an open palm against his back once. "Blessings of Aslan now on you, my son."

Markus returned the embrace then stepped back and bowed respectfully. "Thank you, Oberon, faithful servant of Aslan, for teaching me these past weeks. I would not be who I am now if not for your persistence." He turned back to the house then paused, looking back at the crazy old man who had saved his life in two very different ways. "I will leave tonight. Aslan willing, we will meet again."

"This life or next. This life or next. Go you now."

Collecting his katana and pack, Markus strode back into the main room and stopped short. Oberon nodded once as he shuffled forward and added the two books Markus had been studying to the pack. The crazy old man patted the pack after he tied the flap back down. They exchanged no words, having said all that could be said, but Markus was certain that his teacher knew how much the gift meant to him.

He strode out into the night, taking a shortcut to the large lake. Instinct and habit made him choose a more cautious route, not wishing to run into the soldiers standing watch before he could reach the Princess Royal. Although it was odd that she was out on a patrol. But even odder was the fact that she had brought the patrol here. Of course, Oberon had said that Aslan had led her here.

Stopping in the shadows, Markus watched the few guards moving about the camp. Most of the fires had died down. How would he find her without being attacked first? It would have been easy enough with his magic to disguise his scent and even make it so the guards' attention passed over him but that was no longer an option. A splash pulled his gaze to the lake. Another smaller splash followed. Markus moved silently through the trees until he reached a sheltered part of the lake. A Nymph was playing the water, splashing her feet in it as she sat on a large rock and combed out her damp hair. Then she turned slightly, her profile recognizable even in starlight, as she scanned the woods.

Her voice was authoritative and held no hesitation as she called out, "Show yourself."

Markus hesitated then stepped forward, careful to hold his sheathed katana out from his side, hilt facing the Nymph. He caught a glimpse of metal glinting in the starlight as she rose to her feet, seemingly unperturbed to be found in her shift. Before she could speak or call out to the guards, Markus extended the katana toward her and then knelt. "I've come to surrender to your custody, Lew's Daughter."

She looked from him to the katana then back to him. "Well, that's a surprise."

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"We should kill him. He's a sorcerer."

Alambiel stared at the katana resting on the cot in front of her as she tapped her chin. She flicked her gaze to meet the Satyr's furious one. "He has surrendered into my custody. We're not going to execute him without a trial. And he needs to be tried before the Four, so we're still not going to kill him, Merus. Stop suggesting it." She turned to the others. "Break camp. We return to Narnia and the sorcerer is coming with us so do not harm him unless he attempts to escape or harm someone. And do not discuss his nature amongst yourselves. His fate is for the Kings and Queens to decide. We don't need the hassle of fending off any vigilante attempts at biased justice. Lieutenant Pomeroy, we'll march double time for an hour every two hours."

"Yes, Dame Sepphora." The Elk turned and bellowed orders to the camp. Merus shook his head in disgust then stomped out of the tent.

"I took the patrol out of Narnia and brought home the sorcerer who tried to kill the Kings during that battle in Greenroof. Because he surrendered." She sighed, shaking her head slowly. "Oh yes, that's going to go over so well with the Kentauri." Gathering the katana and her saddlebags, Alambiel left the tent and beat a straight path to where Pepin was grazing. The horse bumped her arm then snorted as he nibbled her sleeve. "Patience, patience. Finish packing first and then I'll give you some apple slices."

The gelding whickered and nudged her arm harder. She laughed in spite of her worries and quickly attached the saddlebags then slid the katana into the sword harness that usually cradled Chrysaor. Then she slipped Pepin some apple slices.

"The General will not approve of your decision."

"Think so?" She rubbed the gelding's velvet nose and whispered to him in Irish.

"You are taking a risk."

Alambiel sighed then looked down at Ptah as the Leopard pressed his bulk against her left leg. "It is an acceptable one. Besides if I didn't escort Markus, he wouldn't last long enough to reach Cair Paravel."

"We could send a messenger."

She shook her head as she re-checked the girth and the stirrups. "Not enough time. We need to get back to Cair Paravel as soon as we can possibly manage."

"Why?"

Alambiel swung herself up into the saddle, gathering the reins as she looked down at the Leopard who still watched her. "I don't know. I just know we cannot tarry and it would be best if we kept Markus' nature and his past deeds to ourselves until we deliver him to Cair Paravel."

She nudged Pepin with her heels and they trotted over to where Markus was sitting atop her spare riding horse. The mare was young but she minded Pepin's lead quite well, not even putting up a fuss when Alambiel tied her lead rope to Pepin's saddle. Observing the patrol, she knew that the bigger risk would be in the return trip after all. She hated when that happened. "Move out!"

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Two days passed before Markus dared to urge the mare to sidle up beside Lew's Daughter. He glanced down at her, noting that today she was not wearing gloves and the rings on her left hand were new to him. "I see your Centaur still managed to capture your heart."

She looked at him, lips twitching as she arched an eyebrow. "Really? You actually think I'm going to discuss my husband with you? Not while the sun's still yellow."

"I was merely looking for conversation."

"Well, I do appreciate the change of pace from 'you will die for this, witch' and 'abominations should stick together.'"

"You are a strange woman."

Now she smiled, nodding. "Yes. Yes, I am. And you're one of the strangest prisoners I've met." She twisted slightly in the saddle to face him. Now the cunning intelligence that she hid behind humor and feigned diplomatic frailty shone in her eyes, adding a spark to them. "You're a sorcerer. Why haven't you used your magic? Is it tied to the battle?"

"How did you-"

"Guess? Rather easily because I know this story. Or rather I know of a similar story involving Aslan appearing in a blinding flash of light although it was not in this world. And, let's just say I have a feeling about you, Markus."

He sat uneasily on the horse, almost unaware of the way the mare danced and shifted beneath him as she picked up on his agitation. Lew's Daughter saw more than he had suspected or wanted. Though he belonged to Aslan, it still made him ill at ease to confess such a dangerous secret. But he also could not help feeling that Aslan would want him to be honest with the woman He had chosen to escort him to Cair Paravel. Taking a steadying breath, he leaned toward her. "I have been blinded since the battle."

A Leopard's low warning growl made him straighten but he still saw the quiet contemplation in Alambiel's eyes. Lew's Daughter was not quite as rash as her father or great-aunt. She would listen to him and then measure the worth of his words by his actions, he was certain of it. Then one of the scouts rushed back to them. "Dame Sepphora! Giants!"

"Where?"

The Alsatian was panting hard, making it difficult for Markus to make out his words. "A league south of here, directly in our path. There are thirteen of them."

Markus watched in fascination as a new light kindled in those blue eyes adding a fierce determination to them. He had only witnessed these changes from afar before. How different it was to witness it with his eyes alone and not through a spying spell. The spying spell had missed the more minute details such as the way Lew's Daughter's eyes flicked up to the heavens in silent prayer before she leveled a determined look at her subordinates. "We'll have to go around and we'll need to travel through the night. Thirteen Giants are too many for a patrol our size. We'll go to the outpost at the border above the Lantern Waste and alert them to the danger. They've enough soldiers to address the threat without monumental losses."

"That will take us three days out of our path, Dame Sepphora," the bull Elk stated gravely.

"I know. Pray we don't run into any more delays."

Markus remained silent but prayed the same thing.

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25 Sunbend 1009

Alambiel glanced at the sorcerer. The last two days he had been quiet, well behaved, and not the least bit psychopathic. "What is wrong with you?"

He looked at her and raised a single eyebrow. "What do you mean, Lew's Daughter?"

"You don't act like the three witches I've met so far. Two sorcerers and a sorceress who were all insane to some degree. You act like you might have a heart that isn't a shriveled pea."

"Ah yes, the unusual comparisons. I'd almost forgotten."

She frowned at him. "You're going to tell me something I'm going to have to hit you for, aren't you?"

"I'd prefer not to be hit."

Alambiel leaned down to pat Pepin's neck in order to hide her amusement. "I could like you."

Markus sighed. "I rather doubt your husband would like that and as I said I'd prefer not to be hit."

"Oh I doubt Oreius would hit you."

That caught his attention and she held back a smirk as he looked at her questioningly. "Oh?"

She nodded. "He'd be far more likely to snap your neck."

"Is that note of cheerful contemplation truly necessary or appropriate?"

"Yes. No but it doesn't bother me." Alambiel grinned at the disgruntled look Markus cast her way. It was almost as much fun poking at him as poking at Oreius and the boys. Almost. "You know, Markus, I'm half-tempted to-"

"Look out!"

The warning cry came a half a second too late. The dark, knotted pine swung its branch into her, connecting painfully with her ribs and knocking her clean off Pepin's back. Landing hard on her back, Alambiel gasped for breath before rolling to the side just as another branch slammed against the ground. She pressed a hand against her ribs for a moment and then leapt to her feet. The forest had closed in, the narrow path they'd been using seemingly disappeared beneath the thick roots and undergrowth, while the trees attacked. "I knew this was too easy."

She ducked as another branch whipped wildly overhead, slamming one of the Satyrs off his feet and snatching at his horns and kopesh. Alambiel leapt up, narrowly avoiding getting knocked over as she raced for where Pepin and the mare still carrying Markus bucked and reared as tree limbs sought to encase them. The sorcerer's dark gaze fell on her and he held out his bound hands. "My sword!"

Protocol demanded weapons be kept away from prisoners, especially sorcerers. But- An agonized scream cut through the air and Alambiel leapt at the sorcerer, dragging him down off the mare. She met his gaze, holding it as she unsheathed one of her knives, and then sliced through the rope. "Don't make me regret this." Then she pulled the katana free of Pepin's harness and tossed it to the sorcerer.

The trees' attack increased fourfold and Alambiel quickly lost sight of the sorcerer. For all she knew, he was fleeing the battle. She slashed and hacked at the grasping limbs, ignoring the stinging wounds each whip-like touch left in its wake as the branches tore at her face, hair, and clothes. A branch slammed into her back, sending her sprawling into the thorny underbrush. Struggling to free herself, Alambiel caught a glimpse of two archers struggling with flint and tinder. Fire would help. It would cow the spirits of the trees. If they could get the torches lit before the trees pulverized them, that was.

Brambles scratched her exposed skin and yanked at her clothes as she struggled to her feet but she fought free. Leaping over one branch, Alambiel sliced through the brittle limbs of a dark pine before it could drive them into a Satyr. The unearthly screech filled the air as the tree branches whipped up and far out of reach but then four branches swung at her. She leapt up and to the left, praying that she might at least avoid broken legs. Ducking her head just in time, she heard the topmost branch whistle overhead just before two thick branches slammed into her right hip and ribs, knocking her across the path. Roots shot out of the ground, binding her arms and legs while she lay on the ground gasping for air. A dark, moss-covered elm tree groaned and then swayed closer, its thick branches rushing down toward her.

A wordless war cry filled the air. Then a tall man wielding a katana in one hand and a blazing torch in the other landed next to her. The roots tightened painfully, choking her and applying a slow, crushing force to her ribs. Alambiel bit back a whimper as her mind recalled the terrifying weight of the slab that Mordad had used to slowly crush her ribcage. The elm shrieked, its limbs curling in and away from the torch Markus was holding aloft, and then he whirled, katana slicing through several roots while he brushed the torch against the thicker roots. All around them, the trees' unearthly shrieks rose up, mingling with the shouts of "Narnia! For Aslan! For Aslan!"

The roots holding her retreated back into the earth and Alambiel ignored the urge to wince or yelp at the ache her body had turned into as she allowed Markus to pull her up. She stared up at him, the question on her lips, but then he held out his now-sheathed katana. She nodded. "Check the mare and then don't move from her side." She waited only long enough to witness him carrying out her order before she picked her twin knives back up and returned them to their hidden sheaths. "Lieutenant Pomeroy, report!"

The bull Elk was breathing heavily when he joined her but the light of battle still shone in his eyes, reflecting the way he held his antlered head high. "Four of our soldiers are badly injured. No one escaped unscathed but the trees have retreated."

"We're less than an hour from the outpost. There are two healers stationed there who can help our wounded." Alambiel scanned the now quiet woods, only broken branches and the scent of burnt wood testifying to their conflict, then added in a low voice, "We cannot tarry here or I would look after them myself."

"Yes, Dame Sepphora."

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30 Sunbend 1009

Markus looked over at where Lew's Daughter kept her horse (and, consequently, his own) at a brisk canter. "What do you hope to do?"

"Reach Cair Paravel before your presence is blabbed all over Narnia. And before anything else tries to attack us."

She seemed a bit anxious now as they drew ever closer to Cair Paravel. On the other hand, she had been very ill at ease when she had agreed with the healers that the only solution was to leave their four wounded there at the outpost. But, Markus still believed it was tied with Cair Paravel or perhaps a more accurate guess would be her husband. He was tempted to ask her but he held his tongue before he could do so and risk provoking her into hitting him or possibly throwing a knife at him.

It was in the deep watches of the night when they cantered up to the gates of Cair Paravel, which shone dimly in the moonlight. Markus could not help feeling some awe even though he had seen it hundreds of times. The massive gates swung open and the troop clattered into the courtyard. Lew's Daughter remained close at hand as Markus dismounted and then she directed one of the Fauns who'd come to greet her to take his katana and pack some place safe.

Lew's Daughter led him and five soldiers, including her Leopard guard into the depths of the Cair before she stopped in front of a circle of barred rooms. "Lieutenant!"

A grey-furred Satyr came forward then held a whispered discussion with Lew's Daughter before he offered a dignified bow. "It shall be as you command."

Then Markus was directed to pass through the first barred door, which was shut before another soldier, this one a fiercely proud Centaur opened the second door. Striding confidently into the cell, Markus turned to face Alambiel as the door was slammed close. "Is this goodbye?"

"Don't worry," she stated brightly, "we will see each other at your trial." Then she turned to the guard. "No one outside of the Four, the General, and myself are to know of his presence or be given access to him until the Four rule otherwise."

"Yes, Your Highness."

She looked back at him only once, a measuring light in her eyes. He met her gaze unflinchingly and then bowed his head. "Until our next meeting, Your Highness."

The words seemed to amuse Lew's Daughter as she shook her head with a soft laugh. Then she turned back to the guards. "Absolute silence. He doesn't find out what's going on outside this wing and no one outside finds out what's going on here. You'll be relieved in twelve hours." Then she left.

Markus walked over to the cot. More comfortable than he expected. There was actually a mattress. No sheets, though. Still it was better than cold stone. Sitting down, he wondered how long he would have to wait before they allowed him to read the books Oberon gave him.

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Slipping in had been too easy, especially considering it was the General's personal quarters. An almost silent turn of the key and the outside world (along with its varied interruptions) was locked out. A quick peek proved that the study was dark and only inhabited by piles of paperwork. Easing the door open, she could see Oreius was in bed. He didn't stir as she came in and lowered her pack to the floor next to the foot of bed on her side but the subtle change in his breathing as she padded into the bathroom told her he was awake.

She lingered over stripping out of her armor and her ablutions but there was no use delaying things any longer. After pulling on a fresh shift, Alambiel brushed out her hair and started to braid it out of habit but then she forced herself to stop. It was time. Opening the door, she could see that Oreius' left arm now rested across his eyes. He was still awake, though. She bit her lip and fiddled with her wedding ring. It had been almost five weeks since they'd seen each other, since they'd argued. She drew a breath to say his name but then stopped.

Padding across the cool floor, she climbed onto the bed, its downy softness giving away easily beneath her weight. Oreius didn't move even as she stopped, her knees almost touching the curve of his back. For a moment, the cowardly thought came that she should let him rest and let the issue lie until daylight. But no. She had promised herself that she wasn't going be childish and run away from the difficulties anymore. Alambiel swallowed hard then leaned down until her forehead was resting Oreius' forearm. "I'm sorry. I was wrong." She waited but he didn't say anything. Hurt flared but she didn't move away. Instead, she whispered softly, "I missed you. Can you forgive me?"

Minutes crawled by but he still didn't break his silence. She hadn't thought the silent treatment was like him…maybe she had remembered wrong.

"Don't cry."

Alambiel jumped. "I'm not."

Oreius shifted, lowering his arm and then sitting up. He raised a hand to cup her cheek and murmured, "Then why are your cheeks wet?"

"A phenomenon associated with regret and guilt." She searched his face but his expression was obscured by shadows. Still she took a chance and whispered, "I was afraid."

The tension was still there but then Oreius sighed, "And will you tell me why?"

"I could not remember. When we argued over the guard, I couldn't remember something and I still don't know what it was I was trying to say. I felt like there was an example I could have used to make you see, to make the argument stop before it got worse, but I couldn't remember it. And it scared me. I thought the blank spots were gone, finally gone, and suddenly there was one. And…and I lashed out at you because I was afraid you were right. I was denying that you were right. That I was taking a risk I shouldn't just because I couldn't remember a letter threat that played out and I had the sudden realization that I didn't _know_ but you were also right that I was playing the fool."

"Alambiel-"

She covered his mouth with her hand. "I've had three and a half weeks to think about this, Husband, don't interrupt. It's important." His hand fell away from where it had still been cupping her cheek and she swallowed hard then lowered her own hand and shifted closer, trying and failing to see his expression through the shadows. "I was wrong to throw a fit over the guards and I was also wrong to…abscond with the patrol. I'm probably not supposed to be on patrols, am I?"

"No, you are not. You attract too much trouble," Oreius answered severely. She bowed her head, wishing she had a better way of proving how much she regretted their fight. "Don't." Callused fingers gently pushed her chin up as Oreius repeated, "Do not be submissive and subdued. It does not suit you. It is _not_ you."

"I-"

"And now it is your turn to listen, my lady." Oreius shook his head then sighed, "Alambiel. You were not the only one in the wrong. You were right that I should have spoken to you about the need for your guard to be increased first." He let go of her chin, putting more of a distance between them. "I want to protect you, Alambiel. I _need_ to protect you but you are very uncooperative and that makes me…it makes it difficult to know how to best protect you within those limitations. I assumed that if I put the safeguards in place before we discussed it, you would see that the extra guards would not interfere with you and your ways. However, I was wrong to assign them without consulting you or explaining to you why I felt their presence necessary."

"Iphicles doesn't like women."

The words slipped out before she could stop them. The Kentauri sighed. "That was not in your notes."

"Well, I don't put the rejection reasons into their consideration files."

"Where do you put them then?"

"In the rejection file, which only I can access."

The silence stretched between them then Oreius shook his head, turning away from her again. "I should not have rushed this."

Alambiel frowned then rested her hand on his shoulder. "I don't understand. What did you rush? The guards? Well, in that instance, yes, a bit but we-"

"No. I rushed us. Our relationship. We should not have married so soon."

"So soon after Redhaven and Mordad?"

"Yes." He was tensing again, she could feel it beneath her fingertips, but at least he didn't pull away. "We should have taken more time. _I_ should have given you more time. I didn't even wait for a full two months before I proposed to you. That is my doing, not yours. You needed more time to gather your memories and I failed to give it to you." He reached up, covering her hand with his before she could draw back, and squeezed her fingers. "I take my vows seriously, Alambiel, especially the ones I made to you on our wedding day. I am sworn to protect you. It is my duty as your husband to do everything I can to keep you safe. What I failed to consider was how marrying you might increase the danger."

She wanted to tell him that he was worrying over nothing but she didn't know enough to do that…not yet, at least. "The letter?"

"Letters. There have been three more since you left and I have been unable to trace them to the source. And the one thing I cannot tolerate is knowing that I have failed to protect you from a danger that found you because of me, because our marriage made you a target. I do not want to lose you. I cannot lose you."

"Oreius." She shifted closer, wrapping her other arm around him and then leaned her cheek against his shoulder. "I don't know what's going on with the letters but you aren't going to lose me."

"I made you vulnerable and I need you to allow me to repair that damage."

"Stubborn Centaur." She tugged at his hair. "We are stronger together than apart. And it's a bit late to have second thoughts about getting married now, don't you think? What if we're already expecting a foal?"

That got his attention. Oreius twisted around, his grip on her hand tightening. "What are you saying?"

"Not what you think I'm saying. 'What if' is not the same as 'we are' just for future reference." Alambiel gripped his hand. "Oreius, we could-"

"Will you forgive me?"

She sat back, wishing she could see his face, be able to read the little signs that gave hints as to his true thoughts and feelings. Oreius tightened his grip on her hand, pulling her forward until he wrapped his free arm around her. His voice was rough as he breathed in her ear, "Can you forgive me for not handling the guards better? For deliberately choosing to go around you? For driving you away?"

Alambiel hid a wince when his grip aggravated her still-bruised ribs. Then she wrapped her arms around his neck. "I forgive you for being the overprotective, paranoid General I married. I do not forgive you for driving me away because you were not involved and even then you would have to do something drastic like toss me onto Pepin's back before it would count toward driving me away."

"The letters-"

"Tomorrow. When the sun's up. That's when we'll talk about it. I'm too tired to attack that problem now." She leaned in, intending to kiss him then stopped. "You didn't say you missed me."

"Did I not?" Oreius relaxed his grip on her, running a hand up her arm until he reached her sleeve. "Then that is something else for which I must crave your pardon, Wife." He silenced her with a kiss before pulling back again, close enough now that she could see the love mixed with relief in his dark eyes, and murmuring, "For I have missed you, my Alambiel. I have missed you every day and every night."

Reaching up, she lightly ran her fingers down the side of his face and along his jaw. "I had to come back eventually. You're my home."

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"Alambiel."

She rolled over. "Do you have something against sleeping?"

There was no answering chuckle. "Alambiel, wake up."

She groaned, feeling the souvenirs of riding with only enough stops to rest the horses and the stupid trees' attack, and then reluctantly cracked her eyelids open. Oreius was leaning over the bed, looking more than a little concerned. "What is it?"

"What happened to your face?"

She reached up, feeling the side of her face, only now remembering the fading scratches. "Oh. The spirits of evil trees attacked us when we were about to cross the border. Took a bit longer to drive them back than usual. I needed more soldiers with hands."

He frowned and she sighed. "We were heading for the outpost to alert them to an encampment of Giants when we stumbled across the grove. Those bloody spirits objected to our presence. We overruled them. That was five, no, six days ago. Both problems should be resolved by now and reports are probably on their way." She closed her eyes again, wondering if she could get just another hour or two of sleep. Then she remembered what else she had to tell him. "Oh and you-"

Alambiel cut herself off as someone beat on the doors. So much for sleeping. Oreius was already standing in front of the main doors by the time she had gotten out of bed and pulled on a robe. He glanced back at her and then unlocked the doors, granting entrance to the Kings. They looked furious. Edmund glared at her. "Kat, why is there a bloody sorcerer in our dungeon?"

She cleared her throat. "Well, he surrendered and I'm pretty sure we need him."

"For what?"

The quiet, restrained tone in which her Kentauri asked the question made her want to wince. That tone wasn't a good one. A peek at his face proved it was shuttered behind the 'I'm the General' mask. He thought she had intentionally held the information back. Alambiel turned her attention back to the Kings, already knowing they won't like her answer. "I don't know."

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**A/N: Please Read and Review! I hope everyone has had a safe and happy Christmas. And here's a nice long chapter for you complete with the spirits of evil trees. I hope you enjoy it. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one. **


	9. Chapter Nine: Elucidation

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: A sorcerer challenged by Aslan. Love and friendship alike are tested by his presence. And the Gentle Queen faces her own challenge when the sorcerer's true colors are unveiled.

A/N: If you have not read the first eight stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc (_Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, and Veiled_), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Nine: Elucidation

31 Sunbend 1009

The room was almost suffocating from the tension. Oreius knew his colts were most displeased and he had to admit he was also irritated. How did the cheeky little pest manage to bring such trouble in her wake? Folding his arms over his chest, he refused to be moved by the dark shadows beneath her eyes and the faint scratches marring her skin. "Why didn't you alert us sooner?"

Alambiel sighed, her gaze moving from him to the Four. "We returned at ten minutes past third hour. You two showed up at the door just past sixth hour. I was tired, I slept. Markus is still secure in his cell and hasn't caused any difficulty. If any of you ever waited until a decent hour to get up, I would have been able to alert you to the situation and the circumstances surrounding it before you started yelling."

His dark colt leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, gaze intent on Alambiel. "You said we needed him. Why?"

She looked away, already shaking her head. "I can't tell you that, I just know we need him. And there is something different about this one. He does not feel evil."

"Kat. He's a sorcerer," the High King looked stern as he continued, "and as such he cannot be trusted. He was on the battlefield. He set himself against Aslan."

Alambiel glanced at him, something flickering in her blue eyes, hope or perhaps a plea for his help, his understanding. Oreius didn't move. He didn't know what to give her, not with this one. The flicker turned to just the briefest hint of disappointment before disappearing all together as his wife turned her attention back to the Four. "Have you spoken to him?"

"No."

His colts exchanged a long glance before Edmund asked, "What are you trying to make us do, Kat?"

Now his wife smiled as she placed her hands on her hips. She gave the slightest shake of her head. "I'm not your mother to make you do anything. However, I think it would greatly benefit you if you took the time to talk to Markus. Hear what he has to say."

Peter cast him a sharp look then turned back to Alambiel. "Listen to a sorcerer? Have you lost your mind?"

"Only once or twice and I always find it again."

Oreius frowned at her. "This is not the time for jests." He gestured to the empty room around them. "You are fortunate that you are not having to explain yourself to the full council. Why would you trust this sorcerer enough to bring him to Cair Paravel?"

Alambiel crossed her arms, frowning slightly. "You're acting like I invited him to have tea and biscuits. I put him in the dungeon. Hardly a warm welcome with open arms."

The Queens exchanged looks then Queen Susan nodded. "She has followed protocol for prisoners, Peter, and you didn't need to drag Kat down here before breakfast."

What his golden colt would have said, Oreius didn't know, for Thalia leaned down to speak to her husband. Her voice was soft but carried still in the quiet room. "Peter, you know the Princess Royal would not have brought the sorcerer here if she thought him a true threat."

Peter leaned back with a sigh. "Very well. We can question the sorcerer but really Kat, the next time you decide to drag a sorcerer home, please send us a message so it won't be an unpleasant surprise."

Alambiel glanced at him then shrugged. "I thought speed counted more than warning but if you say so, the next time a sorcerer surrenders to my custody, I'll be sure to send a message."

Queen Lucy giggled and King Edmund smirked. Oreius didn't smile but he thought it was good the High King too relaxed. "All right, Ed and I will interview this sorcerer after breakfast. You girls can handle the court if we run late, I know."

"Actually," Queen Susan interjected, "you and Thalia have to be present for the ambassador's speeches."

"Speeches?"

Alambiel glanced at him again then interrupted before his golden colt could do more than groan. "Which ambassador?"

"Terril," Susan answered as she frowned at her brother. "Peter, he is from Terebinthia and apparently it is absolutely required for you and Thalia to be there along with Lucy. You have to go."

"But, the sorcerer-"

Oreius smothered the urge to chuckle as the Gentle rose from her seat, pinning the High King with a flinty look as she smoothly countered, "Will still be in the dungeons tomorrow. Edmund can question him today. You can do so tomorrow, Peter. You can't keep avoiding Ambassador Terril. That's part of the reason he has lingered here."

"Aww, Su." The colt shook his head then sighed. "Well, if it will get rid of our guests faster, I suppose I can stand it." He made a face as his brother snickered. "All right, Ed, we'll interview him separately and compare notes to see what he lied about afterwards."

"Of course. Now let's go get breakfast. I'm starved."

Oreius waited until the Four and Thalia had departed before he approached Alambiel. She tucked her hands behind her back and watched him with just a hint of a smile. "Am I still in trouble?"

"It seems the Four have chosen to forgive you for the slight breach in protocol." He reached out and tucked a strand of golden hair behind her ear then lightly touched her jaw. "You still need to write up reports detailing exactly how you came across this sorcerer, though. And there is the matter of the letters."

Alambiel smiled as she took his hand. "And I will write the report…eventually. As for the letters, can we at least have coffee first?"

He squeezed her fingers lightly. "Breakfast then the letters. And Alambiel," he waited until she looked up at him before continuing, "if you ever bring home a sorcerer unannounced again, I will throw you into the sea."

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**A/N: Please Read and Review!**


	10. Chapter Ten: Plans

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: A sorcerer challenged by Aslan. Love and friendship alike are tested by his presence. And the Gentle Queen faces her own challenge when the sorcerer's true colors are unveiled.

A/N: If you have not read the first eight stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc (_Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, and Veiled_), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Ten: Plans

Markus stood, swinging his arms and stretching his neck, before he began to pace the cell again. The bed while not uncomfortable was a bit short to accommodate his long frame and sleeping with one's feet hanging off the edge _was_ most uncomfortable. He needed to do something. Longed to do something, anything to take his mind off the fact that he had answered a call to die for his new Lord. There was no doubt in his mind that the penalty for his crimes, both those successfully carried out and those that had been at least partially foiled, was nothing short of death. He supposed he could take some comfort in the fact that he would die as the Great Lion's own and not as an enemy even if he must pay the mortal dues for his past.

The guards were well-disciplined, silent and professional and completely untrusting of him. His mind travelled again to wondering if he might be able to convince the guards to surrender his books to him. Or if Oberon had remembered to put out feed for Lilly. Markus shook his head, wondering at his concern for that little doe. Oberon, he knew would be able to take care of himself. So instead, he worried over the vulnerable creature who had placed inexplicable trust in him.

The sound of locks turning, keys rattling, and then a door swinging open was what made Markus turn around. A young man, dark of hair and eye but pale as though he never saw the sun (even though Markus knew this was not true), strode into the room then stopped before the outer cell. Even if he had not had the silver crown upon his head, even if Markus had never met him before, he would have known this was the Just King. Slim ink-stained fingers rested upon the hilt of the sword hung at his narrow waist with the easy confidence of a battle-hardened warrior and the silver tunic was cut to emphasize the strength of the deceptively slender frame. No, as he met those dark eyes, which were just as perceptive as they had been on the battlefield, he couldn't help but admit that this boy, this man, was not one to be underestimated even though Markus knew there were many who still made that mistake.

Markus bowed his head politely. "Your Majesty."

"The Princess Royal told us you were refreshingly polite. For a sorcerer." The younger King suddenly unbuckled his sword belt, handing the weapon to one of the guards before he nodded to the stern-faced palomino Centaur, who unlocked the outer cell door. "I should caution you, sir, that I am unarmed now and attempting to take me as hostage or do me harm will only cause your imminent death to become immediate."

A slight smile curved his lips as Markus bowed his head again. "I had thought the Just would not sentence me to my death before the interview and trial."

"You're right, I won't. However, with the evidence against you, it is unlikely that you will be spared. You are a sorcerer, after all."

"This I do not deny, King Edmund." Markus considered the young man in front of him. "What is it you wish to know?"

Something flickered in those cunning eyes. He wondered if the boy had heard the willingness to answer any question in his tone. Or perhaps he merely suspected his reasons for being so agreeable. Whatever it was, the younger king's voice remained calm and coolly controlled as he asked bluntly, "Why have you come here? Did you surrender to Dame Sepphora in order to plot another attack from inside Cair Paravel's walls?"

"No, I did not. Although there was a time when I sought the secrets that would have enabled such an attack."

Edmund stepped closer to the bars, although he still remained out of arm's reach, eyes narrowed as he searched his face. No doubt, he sought any signs of guile and deceit. Markus met his gaze steadily, unashamedly. There was nothing he could do to conceal his past, not when enough acts had been carried out before the eyes of his intended victims. "Then perhaps you will answer my other question now. Why have you come here?"

"Because I was commanded to do so."

The simple words hung in the air between them and Edmund's eyes narrowed further as his brow furrowed. The silence stretched until the Just asked, "Commanded by whom?"

Markus stepped closer to the bars and bent down slightly so he could look the king directly in the eyes. "By the Great Lion."

Dark eyes widening, Edmund stared at him in silence but then he nodded slowly. "I see. We will have to continue our conversation at a later time, sorcerer." At the unspoken signal, the Centaur guard opened the outer cell door. The Just walked out unhurriedly, accepting the proffered sword belt with a quiet word of thanks.

"My name is Markus."

Edmund paused in the middle of tightening his belt then nodded once. "We will speak again, Markus. Unfortunately, other duties are required of me." He turned to the guards, adding, "Make sure his meals arrive on time and no one is allowed to tamper with them. Dame Sepphora's orders against speaking of his presence to anyone outside of Ourself, Our Royal siblings, and the General still stand."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Markus watched as Edmund turned back once more, again piercing him with the eyes that were too old for their body and reminded him of golden eyes that saw the very depths of his soul. Then the Just King left.

He returned to pacing, wondering at the reason behind the brevity of the interview. But he should have patience. He was good at being patient and biding his time. The chance to speak honestly, to fully surrender his fate to the Four as commanded by Aslan would come.

He looked up as the door opened once again. But it was not the Just who entered. No, graceful as a doe, with slender white hands clutching her vibrant purple velvet skirts and a golden crown nestled atop her long, dark hair as she intruded on a world that now seemed absurdly harsh with her in its midst, it was most certainly not the Just King. Blue eyes widened and pink lips parted in faint surprise as the Gentle looked at him. Markus approached the bars of cell and grasped them as he held her gaze. But he did not speak the question most prominent in his mind. Why had Queen Susan the Gentle ventured into the dungeons?

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Edmund hurriedly slipped into the solarium where Peter and Thalia were hosting the Terebinthian ambassador. He was a bit surprised that Susan trusted Peter to be there alone but then again she had confessed at breakfast that she had grown weary of Lord Derrick's persistence in pursuing her even after Kat had unintentionally insulted him by laughing herself silly at his first attempted proposal. And Thalia's calming hand seemed to be keeping Peter in a good mood. Not to mention his brother was almost always unfailingly polite and the epitome of good manners even when caught by the diplomats he most wanted to avoid.

Still, he didn't miss the way his brother's slightly glazed smile became more genuine when Edmund sat down in the chair on his right. With a cautious glance at Thalia who was preoccupied with pouring tea for their guest, Peter leaned toward him and whispered, "What happened?"

Edmund whispered back, "He said he came at Aslan's behest."

"What?" The entire group paused to look at the High King. Edmund rolled his eyes while Peter just stood and bowed. "Ahem, I must ask your forgiveness for the disturbance, Ambassador Terril. But I fear I must take a moment to speak privately with my brother. I will return shortly. Edmund."

They hurried out of the solarium then stepped inside one of the unused sitting rooms. Peter turned to him. "Did he actually say Aslan's name?"

"No. But he told me that he came here at the command of the Great Lion."

Frowning, his brother turned and paced. "That doesn't mean anything. The Fell may not care for hearing the Name, some more than others, but we have seen that those who say Aslan's name do not always fall on His side. Do you think it's a trick?"

Edmund shrugged. "I honestly don't know yet. He's difficult to read."

"He's also a sorcerer. He's probably just waiting for us to let our guards down, don't you think?"

"It's possible. I think we need to approach him together and then go at him separately."

Peter nodded. "And we should invite Oreius to listen in each time."

"As though he wouldn't insist on it." Edmund smirked. "I only got away with going without him this time because he and Kat are sorting something out."

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Oreius watched his wife's face as he laid out the four notes in front of her. The last three of which were all written in a near perfect forgery of her handwriting. There was a flash of wrath in her eyes when she read those, all of which declared "her" hate for their marriage and "her" realization that it could never work. "Oh really? Oh, well, how devastating for this person that I did come back home." She scowled at him, holding one of the letters out. "You didn't believe this, did you?"

He cleared his throat. "The first deception was most convincing save the word choice and cowardice was all together too much. You would never attempt to end our marriage in such a way."

"You're absolutely right. If I were going to end our marriage, I wouldn't leave a paper trail. Just murder you in your sleep."

Oreius coughed, fighting back the urge to laugh at her matter of fact tone. "I am greatly comforted by this, Wife."

"Should be. If I kill you, it will be very straightforward and no one will be able to prove I did it." She winked at him before frowning at the notes again. "Completely unsuitable for each other. A mistake. Hmm, I wonder . . ." She rose from her chair, still frowning. "Actually, I think I do have letters that use similar phrases. Come with me."

"Where?"

"My study."

As soon as they reached her study, Alambiel went to her desk and unlocked the lower left-hand drawer then pulled out a file. Oreius raised an eyebrow at the sight. The only paperwork in the room that usually appeared organized was the limited duty roster but as he approached her desk, he could see Alambiel had kept a very neat file full of letters. His surprise was swiftly replaced by fury as he read one of the letters. "How long have you been receiving these?"

"Oh since before we actually started courting, I think. The Werewolf was the first one I know of who assumed we were mates but petty suitors who were upset by my turning them down have also made accusations of varying vulgarity of our being lovers. It's sort of funny. Half the letters call me a witch and the other half tends to stick to making disparaging comments on my romantic life . . . even before I had one. Anyway, I'm looking for a specific set of letters."

"Death threats?" The question came out terser than he would have liked but Oreius was not pleased to find out she had hidden all of this from him.

Alambiel grasped his hand, threading her fingers through his, as she looked up at him. "It's not that I didn't trust you or that I didn't want your protection but I knew you wouldn't react well to these letters. I never kept the most offensive ones. Those always went to the fire but I did keep records on who sent what and how often. And I didn't think it would be good to burden you with another worry when the majority of the letters come from crackpots or people too cowardly to ever go beyond the written word. And those I suspected might one day work up said courage are on a watch list." She picked up one of the letters. "This one. It's part of a set that I began receiving after our courtship was announced. I was never able to trace them to a single source."

"What does that mean?"

"The penmanship indicates a single author but he or she is rotating their distribution. One of these letters made it into a packet from Hadassah House." Alambiel frowned. "Now that one bothered me. He never issues a death threat or even a threat of physical harm but it's clear that he or she does not approve of mixed marriages. Here, listen: 'The Princess Royal is a fool. She should know better than to join herself to a beast. The wretch could join the Tisroc's harem and still be in a more acceptable union. She should turn away from this path before it is too late and she learns with all the pain deserved that this relationship is doomed and never should have flowered to begin with. Mark my words. The Princess Royal will regret joining her life to that beast's.' This letter writer in particular enjoys referring to me in the third person."

He clenched his fists. "The Tisroc." He paused, took a steadying breath, and then said more calmly, "Now the Tisroc you would murder gleefully if he ever had the misfortune of finding you in his harem."

Alambiel gave him a little smile but it did not reach her eyes this time. "There are places we can look for the letter writer. They might not be the same person as whoever sent you those notes since I only wrote once to a prearranged drop off as I rather, well, tersely forbade him from saying a number of things to me again and ever using Hadassah House as a means for communicating with me again. But, it's still a possible lead."

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**A/N: Please Read and Review! Happy New Year! Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one. **


	11. Chapter Eleven: A Foe?

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: A sorcerer challenged by Aslan. Love and friendship alike are tested by his presence. And the Gentle Queen faces her own challenge when the sorcerer's true colors are unveiled.

A/N: If you have not read the first eight stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc (_Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, and Veiled_), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Eleven: A Foe?

Susan's eyes widened as she realized the only ones here aside from the sorcerer were the guards. She turned to the Centaur. "Lieutenant Darius, was my brother not down here?"

The stern-faced Centaur bowed slightly. "The Just was here but ten minutes past, Your Majesty. Other duties required his presence."

"Thank you." Not daring to look at the sorcerer, she raised her chin slightly then turned, her skirts flaring out as she did so. She would not show him any sign of fear or discomfiture but neither was she foolish enough to linger in a sorcerer's presence.

"Wait. Please wait."

Susan stopped. The nurturing part of her nature warred with logic that she should simply keep going but instead of calling for the guard to unlock the door, she found herself slowly turning around. As she did so, Susan permitted herself to study the face of this bewildering prisoner. The eyes watching her were not glowing red as Edmund had described but were instead a dark brown. His dark hair fell to his shoulders and his swarthy complexion was further darkened by a beard and moustache. The sorcerer was not an unhandsome man. In fact, he was quite easy on the eyes in a rugged sort of way but there was a wildness about him that did not feel human. She almost stepped back when she met his intense gaze once more but instead she squared her shoulders. "Why?"

The sorcerer's mouth twitched slightly almost as if he was about to smile. Then he rasped, "I would ask for the Gentle to show a poor interloper some small amount of mercy."

"It would depend on the mercy."

"Books." The sorcerer's gaze remained intense and his hands came up to grasp the bars of his cell. Susan almost flinched before she reminded herself that there was yet another wall of bars between her and the man. Fortunately, he did not seem to notice her wariness as he repeated, "Books. I would ask that your majesty be merciful enough to allow the return of the three books in my pack. Please."

She stared at him, her hands unconsciously twisting in her skirts. There was something in his gaze that called to her. She gave herself a mental shake. What utter foolishness. Susan allowed just a touch of frost to enter her voice. "You should have asked my brother for these books."

The sorcerer abruptly stepped back from the bars then bowed so gravely that Susan just knew she was being mocked. But he spoke before she could demand the guard unlock the door. "This is true, Queen Susan. However, your royal brother left so quickly I had no opportunity to ask for the books' return."

"Why do you want them?" she asked, now determined that if he made any sign of disrespect or mischief, she would leave him to her brothers . . . as they preferred, anyway. She would not stay if he meant only to attempt to plant doubts through his interactions with her.

"To learn."

Susan blinked then shook her head slightly, a little disbelieving laugh escaping. "And what is you wish to learn, sorcerer?"

He stepped close to the bars again, gripping them tightly. "After a lifetime of living, hunting, and killing in the shadows, I have stepped out into the light but now I must learn what doing so involves in order that I may avoid stumbling back into the shadows out of instinct or fear. The books will aid in guiding me."

She had never heard such a thing stated in that specific way before but something about his words, his phrasing caught her attention. Susan pursed her lips as she weighed the options now before her. If she ignored him now, it would plague her. Before she could second-guess her intentions, Susan turned to the Centaur guard. "Lieutenant Darius, send someone to search the sorcerer's belongings. If there are books, I want them brought to me."

"Yes, My Queen."

As one of the soldiers left to fulfill her request, Susan heard the sorcerer clear his throat. She turned her head to look at him and he bowed his head slightly. "You have my thanks. And my name is Markus."

"Yes, well, I have not yet decided whether I'm going to give them to you." Susan resolutely looked away but not before she saw the slightest of grins appear on the sor- on Markus' face again. No matter how intriguingly he phrased his words, if the books seemed at all suspect, she would order them taken away and inform him that they were to be burned. Which would be their fate if they contained any sort of spells, after Edmund and Kat had the chance to go over them to see how grievous the spells were for the sake of the trial.

She questioned her decision from the moment her orders had been given. What is this _were_ some sort of trick? What then? She probably should have agreed to only inform Edmund of Markus' request. That would have been far more logical. Instead, she had taken it upon herself to prove whether or not the sorcerer was speaking at least a partial truth. She smoothed her hands over her skirts, attempting to hide where the fabric had wrinkled, as she waited, still refusing to look at the sorcerer again. Then the guard returned and three books were placed in her waiting hands.

Two of them were obviously old books. She carefully opened one to the middle. The words leapt out at her. _Aslan is not a tame Lion. None can predict where He might go or what He might do or say. However, we do know that He is good. He is trustworthy and even His punishments are tempered by mercy. It is for this reason that we who are imperfect and drift from His ways at times will still be welcomed back to the safety between His paws. In truth, I do not believe that we can ever remove ourselves from His paws after we have known Him, have truly been His. We might feel and act in such a way but He is there, waiting patiently and kindly for us to listen to the whispers in our hearts that nudge us back toward a better, closer walk with Him._

Susan didn't look at the sorcerer, Markus, as she turned back toward the beginning of the book. A single passage might be a trick, no matter how the words resonated within her. But the next page held words that were just as powerful. _Does Aslan make mistakes? Can He somehow not know what will happen after a specific event? How can that be? It cannot. He knows all things even though He will not tell us too much of our own story at once or tell us another's story. Nothing can be a surprise to Him for He has already woven the tapestry and composed the song of Narnia. The only differences, the slight changes to His design are those He has permitted because He has given all creatures the freedom of choice. And we creatures are just as susceptible to choosing a path that is not the Great Lion's will as the Sons and Daughters of Adam and Eve and in His love, in His permission for us to make our choices, Aslan allows those decisions to change His perfected design. One day, though, when we go to Aslan's Country, we will see Narnia as He meant for her to be seen, unblemished by evil and unmarred by His stubborn children's determination that their way is better than His. And what a day that shall be, my dear ones._

As she closed the book, Susan's thoughts were whirling. A glance at the other two books proved they too were focused on Aslan and following His ways. Although one of them was unfinished and written in newer ink that had not yet begun to faded with age. It was the first entry in that one that caught her attention. The crisp, masculine handwriting was easy to read. _How merciful is the Great Lion? Beyond words. How can it be that He who saw who I was yet offered me a way to escape my deserved fate of separation from Him? I do not understand save for that is it means to have mercy. Once I played with a mockery of redemption but now I understand. Now I truly see what is meant when the Great Lion chooses you to be one of His and you choose Him in return. My heart is raw and it pains me whenever I think of my past but He no longer sees those acts. I must make amends to my living victims because that is the right thing to do but as Oberon has already emphasized I cannot possibly make up for my past deeds to Aslan Himself. And He does not ask for that._

_How different He is from Jadis. If I had not already experienced it for myself, I would continue to scoff at this concept. Now is the time, though. Now I must leave behind the shadows of my past, my old world, and my old way of seeing and doing things and step fully into the light of Aslan as I have seen others do before me. I know already it will not be easy. Perhaps it is for this reason that Aslan blinded my magic. Perhaps it was not only so that I would be forced to make my decision instead of continuing to hide but so that I would not feel the temptation to use my magic to get what I want so strongly as to be incapable of resisting. I have spent most of my life waiting and watching and plotting. Now I believe I have entered a new chapter, one where I must first listen and then do . . . according to Aslan's will, not mine. Surrendering fully to His will shall be the greatest challenge but I am willing._

A throat clearing startled her and she turned her head to see Markus watching her once again. He did not speak of how she had jumped. Instead, he fixed his intense gaze on her and held out a hand. "May I have the books?"

Susan felt a blush creep into her cheeks as she hurriedly closed the book that she now suspected contained his personal thoughts. The logical thing to do would be to leave the books there until Edmund could search them. However, she knew her own failings and she was not always merciful when logic dictated it was folly. Perhaps today she should be a little more like Lucy who knew Aslan best of all. She swallowed once, considering her options, but then she turned to the stern-faced golden Centaur. "Lieutenant Darius, unlock the cell door."

"But, Your Majesty-"

She raised an eyebrow, effectively stilling the guard's protest. Still, she was not so foolish as he might fear. "You may accompany me, of course, but I will deliver these to the prisoner. There is nothing here that will cause harm."

The Centaur frowned but he unlocked the outer cell door then handed the keys to one of the other guards for safekeeping before he pushed the door open. Susan noticed Markus seemed amused when the Centaur stepped around her in order to place himself between her and the inner cell. But the amusement faded when he met her gaze. Lieutenant Darius no doubt expected her to use him as a courier but Susan did not. Impulsively, she stepped forward, extending the books toward Markus. "If you truly want to leave the shadows behind, then it would seem these books are the best suited to helping you with that task."

His callused fingertips just barely brushed against hers as he accepted the books. Susan repressed a shiver. It was not attraction she felt, no, the queer feeling he gave her was something else, something different . . . it was the sense that she was dealing with someone who was not what he appeared. Not suitor or diplomat. Those were two breeds of men she knew how to handle quite well. Not even soldier. Instead, she was looking at a man who should be her enemy, should be treated with utmost caution and the logical thing to do was to leave him to her brothers, and yet . . . she was here. What was she doing?

She withdrew her hands almost too quickly and the sorcerer had to scramble to catch the last book ere it fell. Something in the way he looked at her changed. "Lilly."

Susan blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

Markus withdrew his arms so he was now completely in his cell and turned slightly away from her. "Thank you for your kindness, Queen Susan. These will help to while away the hours until my next interrogation."

She hesitated, the words to confront him over the deception hovering on her lips, but she did not speak them. Instead, she ran a critical eye over his bare cell. "No sheets?"

Lieutenant Darius shifted on his hooves but it was the sorcerer who replied, "The better to prevent a premature hanging, Your Majesty."

"Oh." She turned to leave then turned back again. "But you will need something to write with if you wish to continue making notes." Without pausing to consider her actions, Susan turned to the lieutenant. "See that he is provided with ink and quill for an hour each day. They can be brought in and then carried out with his evening meal."

He did not want to agree. She could see it in his eyes but, unless Peter himself negated it, her order would be obeyed. The Centaur bowed gravely as he intoned, "Yes, Your Majesty."

"Thank you."

She didn't acknowledge the sorcerer's whispered words. Instead, she gathered her skirts primly and swept out of the cell. She had so much more to do today that it would be irresponsible to spend any more time down in the dungeons. As she waited for the door to be unlocked, her thoughts turned again to a specific passage from Markus' books. _Does Aslan make mistakes? Can He somehow not know what will happen after a specific event? How can that be? It cannot._ But how could one know for sure that an event was Aslan's will and not someone else being allowed to follow through on their decision? She wasn't sure. That disturbed her greatly.

Hurrying up the stairs leading away from the dungeon and back into the bright, airy, people-filled corridors of the Cair Paravel she knew so well, Susan wondered if she had made a great mistake in not doing the logical thing where the sorcerer was concerned. Still she forced him from her mind as she threw herself back into the safe familiarity of her self-assigned tasks as hostess and Queen. Although she did promise herself that she would not venture into the dungeons again.

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33 Sunbend 1009

This was the anniversary he had been dreading for there was no joy in it. But he dared not mention it. Still, Oreius was grateful that Alambiel was sitting in the chair tucked into the corner of his study…even if she was muttering as she sorted through a fresh batch of letters. He focused on the reports from the scouts he had sent to scour the sorcerer's trail even if it was over a week old. But he still fought the urge to question his wife as she muttered, "Death threat. Death threat. Marriage proposal. Witch. Marriage proposal. Death threat. Marriage proposal…how many times are you going to propose?"

The sheer exasperation in her tone made him look up. Alambiel was scowling at a thick parchment. It was her expression that prompted him to ask, "Who is it from?"

"My own personal Mr. Collins, that's who. How many times am I going to have to tell this man no before he understands?"

"Who is Collins?" Oreius frowned, struggling to recall any former hopeful suitor of Alambiel's by that name.

For some reason, she smiled. "Mr. Collins is an obnoxious character in a story, Kentauri. He was completely oblivious to the firm refusal of an offer of marriage. This is actually the second Mr. Collins for me. Count Antti was the first. This is," she looked at the parchment again, "Lord Barin of Archenland."

Oreius raised an eyebrow. "Could he have misunderstood your refusal?"

"How thick do you have to be to misunderstand a note that read, and I quote, 'I'm married, you idiot?'" Alambiel lowered the parchment then held it out to him. "Here you get to answer this one."

"Why?"

Alambiel gathered all the letters she had discarded onto the floor to her left and then placed them on top of his papers. "Actually, I think you should do your "I'm overprotective, especially of my wife" thing and you can answer all these marriage proposals as gruffly and stern and threatening as you want in order to make them leave me alone."

"Alambiel, I would-" He cut himself off as a knock sounded. "Come."

The door opened to emit one of the pages. The Faun bowed. "General Oreius, the High King requests your presence in the dungeons unless you cannot leave your current duties."

Oreius nodded curtly. "Please inform the High King that I will be there shortly."

He was already halfway out of his study when Alambiel called, "Does this mean I have to answer my own letters?"

"Yes." Then he hurried out of their quarters, his mind already churning with possible questions they could put to the sorcerer. Questions that might expose him in a lie. But everything they tried was met with a steady answer. The sorcerer had also begun to ignore questions, saying only that the time was not right to discuss them.

Oreius folded his arms over his chest, flicking his tail, as he listened to the High King once again ask, "Why did you come here?"

"To make amends." The sorcerer's gaze met his and then he addressed Oreius instead of the High King, "Today must not be an easy one for you, General. It is the thirty-third of Sunbend, is it not?"

"It is."

The curtness of his reply did not seem to faze the sorcerer. He dipped his head slightly. "Then allow me to begin making amends by offering my sincerest apologies for the torment caused when you discovered Lew's Daughter was dying a year ago today."

Oreius didn't reply. He couldn't trust himself to respond in a manner pleasing to Aslan so he forced himself to say nothing. The High King darted a cautious glance at him and then stepped forward. His colt's voice was harder than before as he demanded, "What do you mean? What did you have to do with any of that?"

The sorcerer did not take his eyes off of Oreius as he stated simply, "I sent Mordad after her. I also used my spells to speed the Valiant's ship to the Seven Isles and after I instructed Mordad to bring her to Ettinsmoor alive and unspoiled, I told him exactly where he could find her and that he would only have one guard to deal with. I also sped Mordad's ship so he reached Ettinsmoor less than a full day after he fled Redhaven with Lew's Daughter in his possession."

If this sorcerer… The High King glanced at him again then asked, "Was Mordad plotting to come after her? Would he have abducted the Princess Royal, tortured her on his own intitative?"

Again the sorcerer's gaze remained unwavering even as he composed his face into a farce of regret. "Mordad had been content in his new lair. He resented and coveted the woman he knew as 'Ishara Reborn' but he would not have sought her out even for revenge. I was the one who sought him out and forced him to come north where he was to act as a robber baron until he captured Lew's Daughter for me. His men were incompetent so they lost her the first time the attempt was made but it also showed me that I needed to ensure that you, General, were unaware of her abduction for as long as possible. So I waited until I learned of the journey to Redhaven and then I set Mordad on the hunt again." The sorcerer looked away, sighing heavily, before he turned to them once again. "The answer to your question, High King, is that if not for my interference, Mordad most likely never would have troubled himself to go against Narnia.

Everything in him burned to lash out at the one responsible for so much grief and suffering, for how much Alambiel still suffered from the aftermath of Mordad's torture. Nightmares had plagued her for the last two nights and all she had willingly confessed was that they involved Mordad. And if not for this sorcerer, this son of darkness, it would not have happened. Alambiel would have been spared. Clenching his fists, Oreius ground out, "Why?"

"She is the linchpin."

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Rage continued to eat at Oreius as he worked on the reports. And this in spite of the fact that he had gone directly from the interrogation to the training yard where he had taken his wrath out on the training dummies for over three hours. The sorcerer had not expounded on his answers during the course of the four hours he and his golden colt had continued to interrogate him on whether there were other plots against Narnia. But it troubled him that the sorcerer had simply pointed to the fact that he had seen the affection between Oreius and Alambiel as one of the indicators to prove Alambiel's importance to him, confirming the description of her as a linchpin.

"Hey, you do know that it's after midnight, right?"

Oreius barely kept his worries from showing as he looked up. Alambiel was leaning against the doorframe, already dressed for bed in a shift and robe. She tugged her robe a little closer together as she scanned the study then whispered conspiratorially, "There aren't any soldiers around this time so it's okay if you come to bed with me."

He looked down at his papers again. "I need to finish these first."

"Are they very pressing?"

"Yes."

"Ah." She approached the desk and lightly touched his hand. "Can I help?"

"No." He cupped her cheek then pressed a light kiss to the top of her head. "No, it is my duty to finish these tonight. I appreciate the offer but you should go on to bed."

Alambiel didn't move right away. Instead, she watched him carefully for a long moment before she finally nodded. Oreius almost sighed in relief. She smiled. "All right but you don't have to act so relieved that I'm going to leave your paperwork alone, a chara. And try to remember that tomorrow is Seventhday and you also owe me a date since you missed our Sixthday talk tonight."

"I will."

He had hoped the promise would be enough to satisfy her and it seemed it was as his wife walked to the door. But then she paused and turned back. "Don't stay in here all night, Oreius."

"Alambiel?" She looked at him questioningly and he smiled slightly. "Sleep well, sweet."

"Good night, Kentauri." Then she left.

He didn't open the reports again until he heard her push the bedchamber door shut (a precaution to protect her privacy in case one of the soldiers or pages delivered a late night missive). Turning back to the paperwork, Oreius hoped they would prove of some help despite being a year old. Perhaps it would have gone faster with Alambiel's help but these reports were ones that he would never willingly give to her. They detailed the trails his scouts and King Edmund's spies had traced in order to discover what had happened to Alambiel when she was abducted by Mordad and in their attempt to pinpoint his location. No, those memories were difficult enough to bear without forcing her to relive them through the reports. And he would never willingly, knowingly, cause her pain.

But no matter how carefully he scoured them, the reports yielded no truly useful information. The only new information had come from the sorcerer, providing the reasoning behind Mordad's attack. It was past third hour when Oreius locked the reports away again and then wearily left his study. He barely remembered to lock the main doors before he opened the bedchamber door.

Closing it silently, Oreius picked his way to the bed where Alambiel was curled on her side. Some of the heaviness hanging over him eased when he noticed she was wearing one of his tunics. He had not realized she would continue that habit after their honeymoon. The pale light of the moon glinted off her necklace, the silver pendant that had once belonged to her dam, and bathed her gently in its beams until Oreius pulled the curtains together.

He eased himself into bed, doing his best not to disturb his wife, and then wrapped an arm around her. Holding her close, he kissed her soft hair. Reading the reports had reminded him of the miracle that she was here at all and he silently thanked Aslan for sparing his Alambiel. Even knowing she was asleep, Oreius still whispered, "I love you."

Alambiel stirred, rolling over so she faced him as she threw her right arm over his side. He felt her fingertips brush against his back then, eyes still closed, she sighed, "Is breá liom tú ró." _I love you too._

He would have to apologize when she was truly awake because he knew that interrogating the sorcerer, pressing him for information about any and all plots he might have left working against Narnia, was his newest and most pressing priority. If there were a threat against Narnia, against his sovereigns, or against his Alambiel, he would find a way to make the sorcerer speak of it. No matter how long he had to wait. Oreius pressed a kiss against his wife's brow, flinching a little at the memory of how broken she had been the last time he had missed a threat. He would interrogate the sorcerer anew on the morrow. Alambiel would understand why he could not allow Seventhday to pass in the leisurely fashion she had hoped.

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**A/N: Please Read and Review! So things just became interesting. More is coming soon! Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one. **


	12. Chapter Twelve: The High King's Duty

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: A sorcerer challenged by Aslan. Love and friendship alike are tested by his presence. And the Gentle Queen faces her own challenge when the sorcerer's true colors are unveiled.

A/N: If you have not read the first eight stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc (_Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, and Veiled_), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Twelve: The High King's Duty

"Where are you going?"

Peter started as two slender arms wrapped around his chest, pulling him back down on to the mattress before he had the chance to kick the covers off. A low laugh escaped him as Thalia released him only long enough to sit on his lap. "My dear lady, you know it's against the law to interfere with the High King carrying out his duty." Thalia's light green eyes sparkled as she leaned forward to kiss his neck. Peter swallowed hard, trying to remember what it was that he had been so certain needed his attention. "Ahem, I regret, my dear Flower . . ."

She stopped trailing kisses down his neck and peered at him from beneath her dark lashes. "Yes, my lord?"

Her tone was all sweet compliance but the heat and touch of mischief in her half-veiled gaze made it extremely difficult to remember what reason he had for leaving her on Seventhday. "I, uh, I regret . . . that I have to go."

Thalia reached up, her slender fingers combing through his hair and gently massaging his scalp. His Flower glanced at him, a tender smile playing across her mouth, as she murmured, "Even the High King is allowed to rest on Seventhday, my love."

Peter grinned suddenly. "Well, I suppose the prisoner will still be there tomorrow." He twisted a nut-brown lock between his fingers. "And I really should be taking this opportunity to shower you with attention, shouldn't I, Flower?" He leaned in to kiss her only to sputter in surprise when a pillow collided with the side of his head then his giggling bride scrambled off his lap. Peter gaped at her for a moment then he laughed as he tossed the covers back. "I'll have you know, madam, that it is against the law to interfere with the High King carrying out his duty."

She giggled. "Then the High King should be more proficient."

Focused on the tempting challenge Thalia was offering, Peter decided that just for today he could ignore any duties aside from that of catching his pretty bride.

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**A/N: Please Read and Review! Something short and sweet for now. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one. **


	13. Chapter Thirteen: Doubt, Comfort

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: A sorcerer challenged by Aslan. Love and friendship alike are tested by his presence. And the Gentle Queen faces her own challenge when the sorcerer's true colors are unveiled.

A/N: If you have not read the first eight stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc (_Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, and Veiled_), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Thirteen: Doubt, Comfort

2 Twirleaf 1009

Susan hesitated then quickly jot down the invitation for both Lord Terrick and Lord Derrick to join her and the Princess Royal at tea that afternoon. Kat would forgive her for this . . . she hoped. She checked the list she had compiled before bed last night for her most pressing duties. Firstday always seemed the busiest as Narnians and foreign diplomats and traders alike flocked to garner the Four's attention after a day of rest. Fortunately, today was one where it appeared that most of her duties would be fairly straightforward. Setting aside the invitation for Ambassador Terril's nephews, Susan hurried to pen an innocuous note asking Kat to join her for tea. She scanned the note critically for anything that might hint at Terrick's presence then gave the letter to the sweet Collie waiting patiently. "Here, Luana, please see that this invitation goes to the Princess Royal and wait for her reply."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

The Collie left her study at the stately run that made her full blonde and white coat flare. Susan smiled at the sight before she turned back to the more immediate difficulty of sorting out the arrangement of the guest quarters for Tarkaan Babak and his entourage of three wives, whom he did not want in the same vicinity of any other male, since the original quarters she had intended to put them in was only a corridor away from the Terebinthian delegation. And she did not trust the Ambassador's nephews and their friends to respect the Tarkaan's wishes. She would have to move the Tarkaan and his entourage to a different floor entirely but not to the west, his letter listing the arrangements Cair Paravel was expected to provide made it clear he did not want to look at Edmund's Western Woods. And certainly not in the north wing. Susan looked again at the flowery and politely worded demands. Where could she put them?

"Oh, I'll put them in the south wing on the third level right below Edmund's spy offices." She jotted the notes down, more than a little pleased with how she had resolved the dilemma. And this way they should be able to head off any plots the Tarkaan might be entertaining toward Narnia.

"And who am I spying on, Sister?"

Susan didn't look up from her notes as she answered, "Tarkaan Babak and his entourage. We'll have to be careful that Oreius only stations female guards who are visible to the Tarkaan. His demands are most strenuous and-"

"His uncle is the Tisroc (may he have cold coffee and rotten apple pie forever)." Edmund grinned cheekily at her even when she gave him a warning look. He ran a hand through his dark hair, making it stick out wildly. Susan pursed her lips as she eyed his hair. He really did need a haircut. But she would merely whisper the observation to his valet then allow the Faun to tackle the task. Edmund cleared his throat and Susan laid her quill down, giving him her full attention. She didn't say anything, merely waited for her younger brother to speak his mind. "Su, why did you give orders for the sorcerer to have quill and ink?"

"Oh. Well, Markus-"

"Markus?" Edmund raised both eyebrows as he rubbed his jaw, his gaze holding hers, weighing her words, her reactions.

Susan raised her chin slightly. "I- I felt . . . sorry for him. The books were obviously a comfort, a learning experience for him and I perceived no danger in allowing him to have them. As the quill and ink, he's only allowed to have those for an hour each day with his evening meal."

Her brother turned away. Susan folded her hands in her lap and tried not to squeeze them together too tightly. Edmund's silences were at times more telling than his words and she felt a terrible dread that she had made a mistake. The memory of Markus' sincere if somewhat surprised thankfulness warred with the equally clear memory of the feeling she had had while looking into his eyes that he was not all he appeared. Lists and diplomats, even ones as tetchy as Tarkaan Babak, those she knew how to deal with and she enjoyed resolving most of the accompanying dilemmas but prisoners . . . prisoners who were sorcerers were far outside her area of expertise. Susan glanced up as Edmund turned back to her. She raised a hand in mute appeal as she asked, "Surely there has been no harm taken, Ed. Not of reading and writing."

He shook his head. "Not yet at least." Susan flinched and Edmund's stance softened. "Hey, don't worry about it. You've enough on your shoulders as it is, Su." He slung an arm around her shoulders and gave her a brief comforting squeeze before he stepped back again. "Look, I understand you were being kind to him, being the perfect hostess as usual, but you need to be careful around him, Susan. We still don't know if Markus is trustworthy."

Susan nodded. "I know, I understand. I don't even really know why I stayed down there when I learned you were already gone. It seemed I could not help but act more like Lucy than myself this time."

"That's not such a bad thing, you know. Heart over logic. Some of the time, anyway. Otherwise, how in the worlds would we keep Peter and Lucy's feet only a little bit above the ground without the aid of logic?"

A slight smile escaped, playing across her lips as she ducked her head slightly and turned back to her lists. "Well, this is true. However, I assure you that I intend that visit to the dungeons to be my last. There are some areas, Brother, to which you are more suited than I and I am happy to grant them to your hands."

As she picked her quill once again, Susan watched Edmund grin. "Don't worry, Su. Peter and I will see to the sorcerer. You just make Tarkaan Babak is comfortable in his nest beneath my spies." He had almost reached the door when he glanced back. "Oh, Susan, did you-"

"No pie, Edmund."

"Aww, Su, but-"

"No. No pies were made today unless you wish to steal the one made for Caia earlier and I've been assured that the wisest course would be to avoid any and all pies made for Centauresses who are expecting. I should have thought you along with Peter and Tarrin learned that last year." She glanced up from her notes and smiled slightly at the mixture of dejection and revulsion currently gracing her brother's face. "That is why I thought chocolate cake would be the best accompaniment to dinner tonight."

"Cake!"

"Don't you dare take any slices to "check" the consistency or taste or any other nonsensical excuse, Edmund Alexander Pevensie," Susan warned.

Placing a hand over his heart, Edmund bowed at the waist. "I wouldn't dream of it, Sister dearest."

Susan shook her head as he hurried out of the room. She could only hope that someone would remind him of whatever duties he had yet to take care of before he reached the kitchens. Otherwise, she would have to serve the second cake.

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_It had begun again. He circled around her, insinuating when he was not interrogating, and always the same questions. Narnia's weaknesses, Cair Paravel's weaknesses, how to access the Four's private wing, how to sneak by the safeguards that protected her kids. She said nothing. She refused to give this vile excuse of a man any advantage that would endanger her family. The cruel slash of a mouth turned up slightly in a mocking façade of amusement. His fingers twisted in her hair and she winced as he yanked her head back. "Tell me where they are and I won't have to hurt you again, Princess."_

_Lies. He would hurt her, he would eventually kill her, and he would feel neither regret nor loss in his black heart. _

_She gasped, trying and failing to suppress a sob as he shoved her against the stone wall, grinding her wounded back against the unforgiving surface. "No."_

_"__Come now, Princess." Fingers tangled in her hair, toying with the locks, stroking her hair in a cruel mockery of comfort. She twisted away even as her fear revealed its weakness as she sobbed. The voice changed, warping into another voice, the original voice that haunted her. The Monster's chuckle filled the darkness even though she could not see him. Then he whispered, "Poor little princess, so alone. So afraid. But that's good. You should be afraid. You're one of the unwanted and no one cares that you are here."_

_Lies. He was lying. He always lied. A shudder ran through her . . . unless he spoke of pain and suffering. Fingers again pet her hair. She shuddered but held still. This time she would fight back but she mustn't let him know, mustn't give away that he hadn't broken her yet. Be he Mordad or Monster, he had not broken her spirit yet. Slipping her hand up by her head, she shivered again as another large hand rested on her shoulder. The voice echoed out of the darkness. "Shh. Be still, I'm not going to hurt you."_

_Lies. Her fingers touched the smooth hilt of the knife. She grasped it just as she heard him gasp, "Alambiel, no, wait."_

_An iron grip clamped around her wrist in spite of her struggle to bring the knife up. She kicked at him but she might as well have been a fly for all he reacted. Panic made it difficult to think as she came to the realization that her wounds had drained her further than she wanted to admit. She kicked again then twisted away, attempting to wrench her arm free of his grasp. The knife would even the odds. She gasped and mentally cursed herself for allowing yet another sob to break free. _

_Then he pulled the knife from her grasp. Before she could think of what more she could do to escape, strong arms wrapped around her, lifting her up. She squirmed but it did not deter him. "Alambiel." The voice was roughened but the tone was gentle as an almost familiar warmth surrounded her and an equally gentle touch pet her hair. "Alambiel, wake up.__ Chéadsearc, __you are safe. Wake up, Sweetheart,__ Chéadsearc."_

_The words pulled at her . . . _

_She took a shuddering breath and then opened her eyes . . ._

Alambiel gasped then struggled instinctively as her mind registered the fact that she was being held tightly. The restraints did not ease but recognition seeped past lingering fear and remembered pain and she allowed herself to go limp, her head resting against the Kentauri's chest. She didn't say anything as she continued to struggle to regulate her breathing to something less than tearful gasping. But, she didn't have to as Oreius continued to hold her close, lightly petting her hair as he murmured, "Shh, Chéadsearc, do not fear. I have you now. He cannot hurt you anymore. I promise, Alambiel, I promise he will never harm you again. You are safe. I promise."

She shuddered once then closed her eyes again, listening to the steady beating of his heart, using it and his measured breathing to steady herself and her own breaths. How long he held her, murmuring comforts and not pressing for answers, she didn't know. But when she had at last calmed and shaken off the last tendrils of nightmarish memory, Alambiel pushed against his chest lightly so she could straighten from her somewhat huddled position. She couldn't quite bring herself to look him in the eye, though, as she asked in a hoarse whisper, "The knife?"

Oreius cleared his throat. "Let us thank Aslan that I realized you had slipped a dagger beneath your pillow, Wife, before you buried it between my ribs."

Alambiel risked a glance up at him and saw only concern and love in his dark eyes. She managed a tremulous smile. "That would be a rather undignified way to end our marriage. It would be too obvious that I did it."

The Kentauri chuckled then shifted, drawing her attention to the way he was on top of the covers. She looked up again, unsure of whether it was the nightmare or the observation that made tears sting the corners of her eyes. Either option was ridiculously emotional. She pulled away a little, shaking her head, as she sighed, "I pulled you away from paperwork."

"That is not what is important right now. I should not have stayed at my work so late." Callused fingers pushed against the underside of her chin until she met Oreius' gaze. His eyes searched hers before he cleared his throat and asked softly, "Did you think I was Mordad?"

She flinched before she could bury the reaction beneath a smile or laugh or some offhanded joke and Oreius pulled her close again. Alambiel took a steadying breath then murmured, "Mordad, the Monster, both. I can't . . . I don't want to talk about it. It was just a nightmare, no matter how much my memories influenced it. It's not real anymore."

The kiss to her temple was fleeting and barely registered. But then Oreius shifted her over and got off the bed long enough to pull the covers back. Alambiel waited as the Kentauri settled himself next to her and adjusted the coverlet so it now covered them both. She knew he was obsessing over Markus and whatever plot he might be brewing, which meant the simple fact that he had chosen to stay with her instead of poring over his unfinished paperwork was a small miracle in and of itself. "Oreius. Thank you."

"For what, sweet?"

She glanced over her shoulder at him. "For staying."

"You need me." The words seemed so simple that had another said them to her, she would have been inclined to believe them trite. But this was Oreius and she knew that such a statement only reflected his matter of fact way of seeing things.

Allowing him to draw her down, Alambiel rested her head on his shoulder and took comfort in his familiarity. She sighed.

"What is wrong?"

"Nothing. You need to learn how to differentiate between the various kinds of sighs."

He tightened his hold around her. "I have and I know that that particular sigh means you are troubled. By something more than a nightmare, perhaps?"

"Your shoulder isn't the softest pillow."

"Alambiel."

"It's an observation." She studied the shadows dancing across the ceiling overhead and then grinned as she added in the same blasé tone, "Don't worry, I like muscles."

Oreius didn't respond at first but then he moved to the side so her head no longer rested on his shoulder. As he leaned over her, he arched an eyebrow. "That I believe. Though you have not complained of using me as your pillow in the past." He pressed a tender kiss to her lips then smoothed a strand of hair back from her face. "Go to sleep, my love. I will not leave."

She wasn't certain at what point she fell asleep, exhausted from the nightmare, but she did remember that no nightmare stalked her before she woke again. And she remembered Oreius holding her close while he hummed to her. If only she could remember why the tune seemed so familiar.

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**A/N: Please Read and Review! Back to Markus in the next chapter. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one. **


	14. Chapter Fourteen: Changed?

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: A sorcerer challenged by Aslan. Love and friendship alike are tested by his presence. And the Gentle Queen faces her own challenge when the sorcerer's true colors are unveiled.

A/N: If you have not read the first eight stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc (_Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, and Veiled_), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Fourteen: Changed?

4 Twirleaf 1009

Edmund wasn't surprised to see Oreius in front of Markus' cell. It would have been more surprising if he had not been there. The sorcerer was sitting on the cot, one leg pulled up so his foot was resting on the edge and his chin rested on his knee. The Centaur's tone remained stony, giving nothing away, as he questioned their prisoner. "Did you set any Fell to attack Narnia? To provide an opportunity of escape for you?"

Markus didn't bother to look at them. But his own tone seemed pleasant enough if a trifle bored as he stated, "That would be an exercise in futility, Centaur. After all, I am in the dungeon and I rather doubt any Fell who somehow won their way past your safeguards would be very interested in rescuing me. They would be far more concerned with slaying the Four or your wife or all five of them if they could manage such a feat."

The way Oreius' fists clenched made Edmund grateful that Markus was on the other side of two sets of bars because he wasn't sure if the good General's temper would tolerate much more of Markus' casual mention of possible assassinations. He decided he should intervene before anything happened to cut the sorcerer's life short. Stepping forward, he clasped his hands behind his back. "Maybe the conversation would be a more beneficial one if we discussed why you broke ties with the Fell as you claim."

The sorcerer twitched. It was a minor thing, more a flick of his hand than anything else, but something in the movement caught Edmund's attention. But was it caused by guilt of past association or by his words touching on a topic that Markus found difficult to provide a convincing story for? He wasn't sure yet. Edmund's eyes narrowed as he continued to wait on the sorcerer's reply but minutes crawled by and Markus said nothing.

"If you were confronted by the Great Lion, who also blinded your most effective means of cowing the Fell, would you have maintained ties with them?" The sorcerer glanced at him for the briefest of moments, then he stretched out on the cot, closed his eyes, and folded his arms over his chest. He yawned noisily then added, "I fear your questions have made me quite weary. Though I look forward to tomorrow's conversation."

Edmund met Oreius' furious gaze and shook his head slightly. They would not force Markus to pay attention to them. Not yet. He tilted his head toward the door and the Centaur offered a curt nod. But, just as the door was opened for them, Markus' rasping words carried to them, "But, General, I feel I should warn you to keep special watch over your lady wife. Linchpins are rarely allowed to live in peace. Too many people want to know what happens when they are . . . removed from the scenario."

The Centaur stopped, his tail flicking and lashing his flanks, but then he continued forward at a steady pace. Edmund had to lengthen his own stride though to keep as he followed Oreius out of the dungeons and up to his own study. He shut the door then sat behind the desk, silently thankful that his Wolves were off 'inspecting' the training yard. "Do you believe him, Oreius? That he's changed, I mean."

"No."

"I know the comments about Kat are troublesome, Oreius, but-"

He cut himself off as the Centaur shook his head. "No, my King, there is more to it than that, I assure you. This Markus was only lately on the battlefield fighting against us and it was only by the grace of Aslan that you and your brother escaped death at his hands. And yet he now claims that he serves Aslan. I have seen no behavior that can truly be attributed to a change of heart. His so-called advice and warnings are nothing more than threats couched in false concern. I cannot believe that he is here because Aslan sent him. It is far more likely that he only offered a pretense of repentance in order to be brought to Cair Paravel."

Edmund looked down, considering the evidence and weighing it against Markus' words and actions. He wanted to believe Markus was sincere if not always the most helpful but his words did not always align with his actions. "You've never cared for traitors, General."

"No." He started when a large hand closed around his shoulder. He looked up to meet the dark, solemn gaze of the Centaur who was the closest thing he had to a father in this world. Oreius nodded once. "No, I do not care for traitors and it takes much for me to believe them truly changed. Although there was one who more than proved his changed heart in the single act of destroying a wand."

Ducking his head, Edmund hoped he wasn't flushing but it did warm him to hear Oreius say that. He cleared his throat as Oreius withdrew to resume the stance of a general consulting with his king. Edmund picked up the wooden block that Kat had given him some years ago. He still didn't know what it was actually supposed to do but it was less dangerous to fiddle with than the biting fox. The wood was smooth and cool beneath his fingers as he turned it over. "Do you think it's easy to change?"

"I believe that depends on the habits you are attempting to change. New habits are relatively easy to adjust, mold, or even break. For the most part, at least. Older habits, however, tend to be the most difficult, especially if you have lived a life where those habits have formed and influenced your reactions for a significant amount of time." The Centaur looked away and his voice softened to the point that Edmund didn't think he was actually supposed to hear as Oreius said, "Even if you want to change them for a new, better habit that won't grieve the one you love."

Edmund twirled the wooden block, studying its smooth surfaces. "We don't even know how old he is or how long he lived one way before Aslan caught him. If He caught him. Maybe Markus needs more help, more time to break the old habits."

The silence was deafening and Edmund knew that the Centaur did not agree with the unspoken suggestion even if he did not voice his opinion. Actually, he suspected that Oreius would be far happier if they kept Markus locked up or possibly bound him hand and foot then tossed him into the sea. He looked up to meet the Centaur's dark gaze. "Why don't you believe him? The evidence does show that he has books about Aslan, writes about Aslan, and he has no difficulty speaking of Him."

Oreius shifted on his hooves then folded his arms over his chest, a shadow of memory in his eyes drawing his angular features into a sterner and more forbidding mien. "Not all of Jadis' spies were Fell to the point that they could not withstand the sound of the Name. Dwarfs, Satyrs, Fauns, Minotaurs, and various Beasts, even a very small number of Centaurs who had been blackmailed into spying to protect their herds (though they normally took care to feed Her old information), all of them could withstand the sound of Aslan's name. The best spies never gave away that the words they spoke and sometimes taught to others about Aslan were not truly imprinted on their hearts. They spoke rightly, even gave the appearance of living rightly, but it was ultimately proven to be a sham. And many well-meaning, trusting people were hurt by their actions. Sometimes they were even killed. This Markus may be attempting to act as though his heart has changed but knowing _about_ Aslan and _knowing_ Aslan are very different even if the actions and words can be similar."

"Then it's more reason to keep watch and ask him questions. We need more time to determine if he is sincere or simply trying to coax us into letting our guard down."

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Markus stared at the ceiling. The smooth stones overhead gave no hint of what occurred outside past the dungeon walls. He clenched his teeth, suddenly wanting to curse his inability to leave or to at least use his magic to see what went on in the wider world. He had refined that skill when Jadis brought him to Narnia and kept him locked in her own dungeon until she was certain that she had cowed any defiance he might have inherited from his father. But she had not kept him from seeing, from searching the enviable happiness in Narnia as well as Archenland and watching how those people lived. Until the day Jadis had caught him as he observed a pair of young siblings playing in the Eastern Sea under their Nereid mother's protective gaze.

He shuttered those memories away. Sitting up, he ran a hand over his face, feeling the scratchiness of his own beard. When would he learn? He had seen the affront on the Centaur's face whenever he spoke of Lew's Daughter in her role of linchpin and he found words escaping, forming themselves into the most aggravating means possible, as he reminded the General not only of her continued danger but also of his past failure to protect her. He needed advice. He needed to write but the quill and ink would not be brought for another three hours. He needed . . .

Leaping to his feet, Markus strode over to the bars. "You! Centaur, send someone for the Princess Royal! I have some important information to share with her."

The guard looked at him impassively then turned away. "You should wait and relay your message to the Kings or the General when they return to question you on the morrow."

He grasped the bars, wishing once again that he had his magic. "My information is for the Princess Royal. If she does not hear it today, then she will die."

The guards all looked at him and then the others turned to the golden Centaur. His expression hardened as he stamped one iron-shod hoof then nodded to the Starling perched on the empty sconce. Markus didn't move as the Bird flitted off. He ignored the glares from the guards, who no doubt interpreted his words as a threat against Lew's Daughter, but then he had seen before that most of the soldiers followed the General's example in being extremely overprotective as regarded the royals of Narnia.

Still he was surprised at how swiftly Lew's Daughter entered the dungeons (with the Leopard trailing in her wake). She motioned to the Centaur guard. "Unlock it, Darius. Now." Once she stood across from him with only the single set of bars separating them (but not so close that he could touch her), she propped her hands on her hips. "Are you really stupid enough to make death threats in your situation? If so, I'm disappointed. You're supposed to have better social skills than the other sorcerers."

Markus blinked. "Are you going to hit me?"

"I might if I get annoyed enough. Now," she raised an eyebrow, "what is it you really want to talk about? And if you say death threats, I will hit you. Hard."

He chuckled in spite of himself. Lew's Daughter always had such fire when she faced a challenge. "I may be more afraid of you than of your husband."

She grinned. "You'd better. And you should be doing your best to stay on my good side."

"What of your husband?"

"Oreius doesn't have a good side where you're concerned, Markus." She moved a little closer to the bars, her brown skirts rustling softly as she did so, and a more serious light crept into her eyes. "Why did you want to see me?"

"To warn you. There is a possibility that someone is hunting for you."

Lew's Daughter shrugged. "Someone's always hunting for me."

"This is different. There are forces at work that you are unaware of and the General and the Kings will not heed my warnings."

"Have you considered the fact that your tone is creating that result? You sound like you're taunting them. They don't react well to taunts, especially Oreius." She shook her head then moved closer to the bars as she lowered her voice, "I don't know what game you're playing right now, Markus, but you need to decide how sincere you really are and you need to work on living sincerely even though you are frustrated by the natural and expected caution you are being treated with. You've made a name for yourself and that can be a hindrance. So, tell me," she came even closer, "how are you going to change their minds about you? How are you going to prove you've really changed?

Markus stared at her then shook his head. "I do not know."

"That's a lazy answer." She turned to leave.

She couldn't leave yet. She could not leave him alone yet. Unthinking of the consequences, he reached between the bars and clamped his hand around her wrist. He heard the Leopard snarl and a low command that stayed the Beast but he paid no heed to any of it as he focused on the woman. "Don't. You have to listen. This is different. I cannot see what is happening outside these cells. My magic is sealed away, perhaps gone forever, and I can no longer use it to my advantage. I cannot offer you a more complete warning. You are being hunted by someone you will not recognize until it is too late. You will die and so will one of the Four. And then Narnia will burn."

Something in his words had an impact. Lew's Daughter tensed then turned to look at him but all the blood had drained from her face. "What?"

"I-"

"Release her!" The Centaur grabbed his arm with unforgiving force, breaking his hold on Lew's Daughter, and then shoving him back hard enough that Markus stumbled into the cot. He looked up to meet the General's blazing glare. He was now between his wife and the bars. Markus could just hear the rage boiling beneath as the General stated stonily, "Never touch anyone who comes down here. Guards or royals, you do not touch them. If you attempt to grab anyone again, it will be perceived as an attempted attack and you will be restrained even if it means you lose the offending hand. Do you understand, sorcerer?"

Markus sneered. "You perceive everything as an attempted attack, Centaur. All I intended was to ensure that she listened to what I had to say." He turned his back on them. Fools, all of them. This was why he despised interacting with others. They never listened and always jumped to conclusions. He ignored the imbeciles behind him even as swift steps sounded just before the door leading to the rest of the dungeons slammed shut. Fury made him want to curse or to lay a very particular curse on that Centaur. He hated-

A roar echoed through the air, driving Markus to his knees. Head bowed, he drew in one shuddering breath after another. A glance over his shoulder proved that the guards had not reacted. They had not heard the roar and none of the Big Cats were present now that the Leopard had left with his mistress. No, he knew the roar had echoed through his mind and his trembling soul recognized it as a warning. Aslan was still watching and He did not need magic to see all.

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**A/N: Please Read and Review! So, more Markus as promised. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one. **

**A/N2: Jesus' girl 4 ever has made an awesome trailer for _Unveiled_. I am so thrilled with it. The link is in my profile next to _Unveiled_'s entry in the chronology. Check it out and then please let me know what y'all think of it. Thank you, Jaygee! :D**


	15. Chapter Fifteen: Promises, Promises

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: A sorcerer challenged by Aslan. Love and friendship alike are tested by his presence. And the Gentle Queen faces her own challenge when the sorcerer's true colors are unveiled.

A/N: If you have not read the first eight stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc (_Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, and Veiled_), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Fifteen: Promises, Promises

Alambiel stayed by his side until they reached a particular corridor then she turned and ducked into a solarium. Oreius followed her, privately fuming over the sorcerer's assault. He glanced at Ptah then waited until the Leopard had disappeared around the far corner before he shut the door. Turning to his wife, he pressed his lips together into a thin line. "You should have put a dagger in him."

"And I would have if I thought he was trying something really, really stupid like escaping." Alambiel tugged at her sleeve, drawing his attention to her wrist, as she switched to her Irish. "Ní raibh sé go gciallódh aon dochar. Ní raibh sé ag bagairt orm." _He didn't mean any harm. He wasn't threatening me. _

"No? Then explain why you looked afraid."

She closed the distance between them, resting her hands on his arms, and peered up at him. "Níl mé chomh éasca a scanradh, Oreius. I mo thuairimse, go raibh sé ag iarraidh a chur in iúl dom. Tá a fhios agat, an cineál maith rabhadh." _I am not so easy to scare, Oreius. I think he was attempting to warn me. You know, the good kind of warning._

He stared down at her, forcing himself to press down the rage so he could focus on Alambiel and what she might have perceived. "Why would he do that?"

She shrugged a little. "Níl a fhios agam. Nach bhfuil rud atá déanta ciall ar feadh tamaill anois. Ach is dóigh liom go fóill go bhfuil gá againn air." _I don't know. Things haven't made sense for a while now. But I still feel that we need him._

"Tell me what he said."

"Go bhfuil mé ag á seilg." _That I'm being hunted._ She glanced up at him, meeting his gaze, as she added with a casualness that sounded forced to him, "Ach go rud nua." _But that's nothing new._

Oreius clenched his fists. Hunted again. And though she was correct that this was not a new development, it still troubled him. It had always troubled him but now he worried that he would be unable to protect her. Or that he would drive her away with his efforts to protect her. "But he said something else. Something that frightened you. Tell me."

"Tá sé rud ar bith. Fíor, tá sé rud ar bith." _It is nothing. Truly, it is nothing. _

He hesitated but then chose to let it go. Alambiel would tell him when she was ready to share and pressing her on the matter before then would only lead to another argument. He reached up to touch her hands then hissed as his gaze fell on her wrist. Tugging her sleeve down, he scowled at the marks that were already changing from red to a darker shade. She pulled away, covering the marks with her own hand. "He didn't intend to leave bruises, Oreius."

"He never should have touched you at all." He stamped a hoof then flicked his tail. "Why do you defend him?"

Alambiel looked away, pushing the golden and white strands of hair that had escaped her chignon back behind her ears, before she stated softly, "Because someone has to and I might be the only one who is willing to listen right now." She glanced at him, a hint of pleading mixed with understanding in her blue eyes, as she sighed. "I know you do not react well to threats or taunts, unless I'm the one giving them, but can you at least try to look past Markus' past in this case? It's important, a chara. Please."

He did not want to say yes but neither did he want to argue. Oreius bowed his head. "Very well. I will try. But, I want your word that you will stay away from him."

"Oreius-"

Raising his hand, he gave her a stern look. "Would you rather I increase your guard again? I do not want you to interact with Markus by yourself again, Alambiel. If he is deceiving us, then he has found a way to fool even you and I would not like to give him another opportunity to harm you, accident or not." Oreius took her hands in his and gentled his tone. "Please, sweetheart, ease my mind in this matter by giving me your word that you will not interact with Markus alone again."

She sighed then nodded. "All right. It's only fair, especially since I don't want more guards tripping over their paws as they try to keep up with me." She smiled as he kissed her hands. "So, what are you doing for the rest of the afternoon?"

Oreius chuckled. "I have a meeting with Peridan, Ardon, and several of my lieutenants regarding the guards we will be stationing around this tarkaan Babak's guest quarters. I fear it will be an extensive one."

Alambiel grimaced. "Oh that's not fun at all."

"Would you like to come with me?"

She shook her head, a little mischievous light dancing in her eyes now. There was just a hint of laughter threading its way through her voice as she begged off. "No, thank you. As tempting as sitting in a room with a bunch of grumpy officers would be, I just remembered that I actually have something to do and it will take up the rest of the afternoon. Enjoy your meeting, Kentauri." She rose on tiptoe to kiss him then tugged her hands free and flitted out the door before Oreius could say anything.

He smiled slightly as he followed her. Ptah was still waiting at the end of the corridor and swiftly made his way to join Alambiel once she emerged from the room. Oreius allowed his own gaze to track their progress until his wife passed out of sight. Then he forced his attention back to the meeting. A little voice in the back of his mind urged him to go after his beloved but he ignored it, knowing that he could not shirk his duty as general in favor of the more pleasant duties of a husband. He had to balance them and, for now, he needed to be the general more than he needed to be at Alambiel's side as her husband. _Linchpin._ Oreius shook his head. He needed to focus on the necessary preparations for the tarkaan and his demands. After, though, after he would pay Markus another visit and learn exactly what the sorcerer had meant by calling Alambiel 'the linchpin.'

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6 Twirleaf 1009

What was she doing? Why was she down here when her duties required her to ascertain whether everything was in readiness for the Tarkaan's arrival tomorrow? Susan hesitated on the stairs. She wasn't in view of the guards in front of the last door yet. She could still turn around, still leave. She started to do just that but then she looked down at where her delicately embroidered white slippers were peeking out from beneath her mauve-colored skirts. Poised for flight. Running again.

Susan pursed her lips. Why did she always flee the challenging aspects of life? Would she always cower behind her brothers and even Lucy? She grasped her skirts tighter then resolutely set her foot down on the next step. Raising her chin, she clung to her courage before it could abandon her again. She would do this and she would prove to herself that she could be strong even without her siblings to lean on. She was twenty-one, after all, and she needed to stand on her own two feet.

Entering the cells where the sorcerer was being held, she was a little surprised to see him sleeping on the cot. She had hoped to find him willing to discuss the one thing that had been plaguing her since they last spoke. But, with her brothers and the good General occupied with a military meeting that even Kat had gone to, Susan reasoned that it was to be expected that Markus would not plan for any visits. Still, she was disappointed that he was not awake (for she could not in good conscience demand he wake just to satisfy her curiosity).

She half-turned around, intending to ask the guards to open the door so she could leave, but then a sleep-roughened voice called out, "Why would you come back?"

Susan started and whirled to see Markus sitting up, running a hand through his hair, which only added to his disheveled appearance. The sorcerer looked at her expectantly and she glanced at the guards. "Unlock the outer door, please."

The guards looked askance at her but obeyed. Raising her skirts slightly, she forced herself to walk over to the inner bars without betraying her nervousness and the second thoughts once again clamoring to persuade her to turn and flee back to light and safe familiarity. "I- I came to ask you a question, if you have the time to answer."

Markus' mouth curved into the slightest hint of a smirk as he rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together. "What question plagues the Gentle that she would seek me out?"

The question hovered on the tip of her tongue but fear of mockery changed it to something safer, something she could use to measure Markus' sincerity and willingness to answer. "Who is Lilly?"

"Lilly?" The man looked up sharply, his brown eyes focusing on her with an intensity that almost made her step back. Then the expression faded into something less, something almost gentle or perhaps relaxed was a better word. He chuckled a little. "Lilly is the name I gave a little doe after my magic was blinded."

"Why would you call me by that name?"

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze sweeping over her in a calculating manner. "Because you approach me like an elegant little doe who is poised to flee should I make the wrong move."

Susan frowned at him then raised her chin slightly. "I don't think you meant that kindly, sir."

The little grin appeared and Markus leaned back. He tugged on his simple brown tunic then rose to his feet, although he still did not approach the bars. "You mistake me, Your Majesty. The comparison reminds me that I should be . . . gentle with you, as gentle as I was with Lilly. It is always possible that earning your trust might be a true prize worth earning."

"You should be more concerned with earning the trust of my brothers and our general." She brushed some stray locks of long black hair behind her shoulder, trying not to show her nerves.

"Well, I fear that shall be a long and arduous task, if not impossible where your general is concerned." Markus took a step toward her, his gaze once more intense. "However, I cannot help feeling that you did not come down here simply to ask me about Lilly. What is it you truly want to know, Queen Susan?"

"How do you know when something happens because Aslan wills it or when it occurs because He is allowing someone to follow through on their own imposed decision?"

The question hung between them and she could almost imagine it forming a solid barrier. Why hadn't she simply gone to Kat or Edmund or Stonebrook or anyone else aside from the sorcerer currently imprisoned in the dungeons? But Susan met Markus' gaze steadily as he abruptly came close enough to the bars and wrapped his hands around two of them. "The books I read claim that you cannot always know for certain until you see the consequences. And when you live long enough, my lady, you will see too many consequences and be tempted to spend the rest of your life avoiding them. But I do not think that is possible. Not with all consequences. But no matter what consequences you are required to pay, when you belong to Aslan, you are still His and you are still forgiven."

"But what if you are afraid to take the risk? What if you are afraid of the consequences that might come, especially from stepping out away from what you know, what is safe?"

Why was she asking these questions? She didn't know but she found herself eager to hear the sorcerer's opinion.

Markus ducked his head slightly so he was looking her in the eye. His somewhat raspy voice softened slightly as he said, "I think we are sometimes required to step away from what is safe so we can know the One who is not safe but He is good. It is not easy when this is required and sometimes it will feel as though you will never succeed at the task but everything I have read tells me that He will not ask you to go beyond your strength. However, you may not know your true strength and so it will seem too much until you call on Him and lean on Him alone for the courage to do what He has required."

Susan sighed. "I wish I could read this for myself."

Markus turned away abruptly, striding over to the three books neatly stacked at the head of his cot, and picked up two of them. Returning to the bars, he extended them toward her. "Take these. The top one will probably help you the most, Your Majesty."

Her manners taking the upper hand, she accepted them with a quiet murmur of thanks. Then she looked more closely at the second book. "This is the one with your notes." She thrust the book back through the bars. "Here, you should keep this so you may continue writing."

He stepped back out of reach, shaking his head and holding up his hands. "No, it will do me no good now. The High King revoked my writing privileges until I prove myself more cooperative so I cannot add to my thoughts for at least a week." He paused as Susan withdrew her hand then added softly, "You'd best be leaving now. Queens must always be careful about where they tarry, after all."

Susan considered protesting but, as Markus sprawled on the cot again and threw his arm over his eyes, she realized that he would not say anything more that day. Clutching the books to her chest, she hurried out of the dungeons. It was not until she had placed the two books inside the drawer of her nightstand that Susan questioned why she was so willing to accept the sorcerer's gift and why she so desperately needed to hear his opinion on the question that had driven her to the dungeons. She still did not know. Nor did she fully understand what it was about Markus that was so compelling. She needed advice. But she would not be able to ask for it until tomorrow since she now only had two hours to ready herself (and make sure her siblings were ready . . . with Thalia's help) for tonight's banquet.

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Alambiel rapped her knuckles against the door then pushed it open. She grinned at the disgruntled look Oreius cast toward the interruption until he saw who it was then his expression cleared. "And what are you plotting now, my Milis Cantalach?"

She snickered as she hopped up to perch on the edge of his desk. "Something you'll enjoy."

"Get off my desk, pest."

"Hey, be nice or I won't share my plan with you, Kentauri."

The Kentauri arched an eyebrow as he opened another report, muttering, "I did not realize I would have a choice this time." He grabbed her wrist and gave her a warning look. "How many times must I tell you not to touch?"

She stuck her tongue out at him. Then she straightened, running her fingers through her hair before she started to braid it, and smirked. "Depends on the day, a chara. You should know that by now. Now about my plan. Since it _is_ Sixthday and we have not enjoyed a proper Sixthday talk since we were on our honeymoon, I was thinking we could have a nice dinner and then talk and then have afters and maybe even go sit under the stars in our garden and you can tell me what they're saying tonight." She smiled as she pulled her hair over her shoulder in order to finish the lower third of the braid. "What do you think?"

Chuckling, he reached out to cup her cheek for a brief moment. "I think it sounds like a very pleasant way to end our less than relaxing day."

"I knew you would agree. So sixth or seventh hour?"

Her hope that they would actually achieve a proper Sixthday talk faded slightly as soon as Oreius looked back at his paperwork. The Kentauri's dark eyes begged her forgiveness as he sighed. "I fear I will not be able to meet that engagement. If it were just paperwork I would put it aside, but I am about to leave for the first of two meetings and the second meeting involves reminding my soldiers that they are not permitted to intimidate the Tarkaan directly, so it will go long into the night."

Alambiel scowled. The soldiers normally handled themselves well when confronted by the more unpleasant aspects of Calormene culture such as slaves or the continual attribution of what Aslan made or graced Narnia with to Tash and the other gods and goddesses of their pantheon. But, Tarkaan Babak's third wife was little more than a girl, perhaps eleven years of age. There was nothing they could do, of course; bringing a child bride to a country where such practices were forbidden did not automatically grant the Narnians leave to arrest Babak or at least free the child any more than the slaves could be freed. The unpleasant side of diplomacy meant they must tolerate such things unless the child were brave enough to seek sanctuary. And from what Alambiel had already seen of the timid girl, she knew it would not happen this time. She still hated to see it.

Oreius touched her hand, drawing her from her thoughts. "I will attempt to return here by ninth hour. I still must choose a level-headed female lieutenant to convey the reassurances that this will not happen again to the Tarkaan."

"I could go for you."

The look he gave her in response to that suggestion was unnecessarily skeptical. "After what you did to the last Tarkaan? Absolutely not."

Alambiel spread her hands wide, giving him her most innocent look. "The one who was at the reception? I didn't do anything to him."

The Kentauri snorted. "He fell into a compost pile."

Her lips twitched and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from giggling at the memory. "I was not involved. He tripped over one of Edmund's Wolves."

Oreius folded his arms over his chest and fixed her with a stern look. "You stood there and clapped."

"Ahem." She must not laugh. She simply mustn't laugh. "There was a fly. A very big fly."

"Still that story?"

"It's more believable than the one that I was testing the acoustics in that particular area."

Her husband shook his head then came around the desk and wrapped his hands around her waist. Alambiel rested her hands on his arms then leaned forward to kiss him. "Ninth hour. Don't forget this time."

Oreius smiled and touched his forehead to hers. "I will be there. Now get off my desk. I have to finish these reports before my meeting with the Kings."

"Of course, dear. I wouldn't want to distract you more than I already do."

"Minx." He plucked her off the desk then set her down, startling a laugh out of her when he gave her a light swat on her rump. "Be off with you."

Alambiel took advantage of the fact that she wasn't actually a desired presence at the diplomatic meetings or the afternoon tea Susan, Lucy, and Thalia were hosting for their ladies and the Tarkaan's wives. She spent the rest of the day making two chocolate cherry trifles (the extra one was a precaution against Tarrin and the Kings raiding the kitchens in search of some sweet) and also made sure the rest of the dinner would be one of Oreius' favorites. She didn't want him to think she was upset with him over missing the last Sixthday talk or leaving before she woke last Seventhday all to interrogate Markus. All she wanted was for him to allow himself to relax for an evening.

By the time the water clock showed it was only a few minutes to ninth hour, the dinner was set up on the table in their sitting room. Alambiel glanced at the clock again then lit the candles once it was the top of the hour. Oreius hadn't sent a message that he had been delayed past the arranged date so she was being positive. When he did remember, he usually took pains to be punctual. Usually.

Her stomach growled as she surveyed the feast of tender venison pasties and pheasant along with freshly buttered corn, broccoli and cheese sauce (something she had had to work hard to coax the Kentari into trying), a large salad, baked apples, and boiled potatoes. The wine was chilled and a vintage she knew Oreius enjoyed in particular. She hoped the Kentauri hurried because otherwise she just might start without him, which wouldn't be the most romantic way to start their date.

Alambiel settled herself on the long, wide couch that she still thought of as a chaise lounge and did her best to ignore the tantalizing smells wafting from the table. Oreius would be there at any moment now.

She opened her eyes when a soft knock sounded at the door. A glance at the clock confirmed that over an hour had passed. The candles once elegant and tall were dripping wax on the tablecloth and the food was cold while the wine was warm. Oreius hadn't come. Even though he knew she was waiting, he still hadn't come. The knock sounded again and Alambiel hopped to her feet, burying her disappointment as she opened the door. "Susan?"

"May I come in?"

Alambiel automatically stepped back, only regretting the decision for a moment when the young woman stopped short. "Oh. I didn't realize you and Oreius were busy. I can come back tomorrow or . . . Firstday even if that would be more convenient."

"The Kentauri isn't here. You might as well keep me company." She strode over to the table and blew out first one candle and then the other, effectively dousing her hopes for a romantic evening with her husband. She covered the ruined dishes and wondered whether the trifle had gone bad or if she might be able to salvage that one at least. Remembering Susan was still standing there with a slight pitying expression as she watched, Alambiel cleared her throat and gestured for her to sit with her on the chaise lounge. Pulling her feet up, she sat cross-legged as she faced the dark-haired Queen. "What's on your mind?"

"I- I have done something very foolish, Kat. I don't know who else to go to because Peter and Edmund would be furious if they knew. But, I couldn't stop thinking about it and now that I've seen what he's written so far. I cannot bring myself to think that he is what we have believed all this time."

Alambiel's brow furrowed. "Wait, wait, wait. What have you been doing, Susan? Are you talking about Markus?"

"Yes," she whispered then held out a small notebook. "Read the last entry."

_Fear is our greatest enemy. We do not change because we are afraid. We do not follow where we are commanded to go because we are afraid. I am afraid and my fear so easily turns to anger and taunts that undermine my purpose here. I have lived a long time and I have patterned my life to a specific way of doing things. I am afraid to fulfill the command given me by Aslan so I fulfill it piecemeal. But I am also afraid because the safety provided by my magic is gone. It may be gone forever. Though perhaps that is best when I reflect on how angry I have been these last few days with those people I am commanded to submit to because they do not hear what I say and only see what I have done in the past. Aslan, how do I make them see the new Markus? _

"Susan . . . You went to see Markus again. And he gave you this. Why?"

Susan's blue eyes were large and pleading even as what little color remained in her porcelain cheeks drained away. "I had asked him to explain something to me about Aslan's will. I'm drawn to him." Alambiel's eyebrows rose and Susan flushed. "Not romantically, Kat! It's something else. He has an air about him and the way his gaze holds me is very intense. It is as though I can tell he is more than he appears and I cannot help wondering what that more is and I want to know his thoughts on matters pertaining to Aslan. So he gave me one of the books he was reading and his own notes because Peter revoked his writing privileges. And what I am reading is just confusing me more. I don't know what I should do, Kat."

Alambiel shut the notebook. "If you went to your brothers or Oreius, they would probably have you toss the books away or immediately return them. They would probably fear that Markus is attempting to influence you to his side with such a gift." She handed the notebook to Susan. "I think you should read an entry at a time and study it on your own then consult Markus' writing. Make your decision based on whether his writing really matches up with the book on Aslan."

She smiled at Susan's slightly downcast expression. "Even I don't have the answers this time, Susan. I don't know why it was so important to bring Markus here although I am working on some theories. For now, we must be watchful and cautious but we can't shut away the option that he's telling the truth eventually. If you and I don't listen to him, he may never be heard."

Susan nodded and rose, smoothing her skirts with one hand. "Thank you, Kat. May we talk after I have followed your advice regarding the books?"

"I look forward to it." Alambiel watched as the elder queen slipped back out and then she flopped back against the armrest of the chaise lounge with a sigh. She would wait up for the Kentauri . . . they could still possibly enjoy the trifle.

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Oreius stopped just inside his quarters as he took in the sight of a table laid with covered vittles and half-melted candles and Alambiel asleep on the couch next to it. He grimaced, remembering that she had planned something very enjoyable for their Sixthday talk, and he had not been able to come. He had not even had the chance to send word of his delay.

Slowly making his way to the couch, he almost smiled at how soft she looked with both hands tucked beneath her cheek. Leaning down, he kissed her temple. "Alambiel."

"Go away, I'm sleeping."

Oreius sighed. "You are angry."

"Disappointed." She sat up, her hair tumbling over and around her shoulders, as she continued with cool politeness, "While I'm certain you have a very good reason for not keeping our date again, I don't really want you to explain it to me right now. What time is it anyway?"

"A quarter past second hour."

"Wow." She glanced at the table then shrugged. "Look I know you're dealing with a lot right now and that because you are both paranoid and overprotective, it's very easy to distract you from appointments less crucial to Cair Paravel's continued safety but next time just find a way to send a note before five and a quarter hours pass. That's all I'm asking of you."

Oreius frowned at the hurt he heard hovering beneath her casual tone. "Alambiel, you are not unimportant to me."

She rolled off the opposite side of the couch. "I know."

"Alambiel, wait."

His wife stopped but didn't look at him as she asked, "What do you want me to say, Oreius? What do you want? Do I need to pelt you with cold potatoes?" She walked around the end of the couch and flashed him one of her forced smiles. "I'm not saying I'm not tempted but I don't want to do anything else tonight except sleep."

He followed her into their bedchamber but she only answered with such forced cheer to his questions that he stopped attempting to converse with her. Instead, he could only regret that he had allowed himself to become so involved in the debate regarding Tarkaan Babak and, when that one's chief guard had come to demand an inspection of the Talking Beasts to confirm they were in fact female, Oreius had refused to debase his soldiers in such a way. And then it had taken three more hours before he finally persuaded the chief guard to return to his master without the inspection. He should have found a moment to warn Alambiel. Instead he found himself watching as Alambiel braided her hair and then glance at him before she unbraided it again. She did not lie as close to him that night, though, but he did not blame her for it. He had erred and he had hurt her. He would find a way to make it up to her. But it would not be tomorrow. He had more questions for the sorcerer and Alambiel's safety was tied to the answers.

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**A/N: Please Read and Review! Well, here's a long chapter for you. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one. **


	16. Chapter Sixteen: Unforeseen, Part One

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: A sorcerer challenged by Aslan. Love and friendship alike are tested by his presence. And the Gentle Queen faces her own challenge when the sorcerer's true colors are unveiled.

A/N: If you have not read the first eight stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc (_Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, and Veiled_), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Sixteen: Unforeseen, Part One

8 Twirleaf 1009

"Oreius?" Alambiel frowned as she scanned their quarters, which were once again devoid of the Kentauri. Where was he anyway? Seventhday and she couldn't even find her husband. She rolled her eyes, knowing where he had most likely gone off to, only the same place he had been going for the last week and a half. The dungeons where he was either interrogating Markus, observing as the Kings interrogated Markus, or simply looming with the patented Glare of Doom going on.

Time for a plan, one that couldn't be foiled by meetings or forgetfulness on the Kentauri's part. She grinned almost immediately as an idea bloomed to life. "Oh yes, that should work perfectly. But first . . ." Laughing softly, she hurried to put the plan in motion. This was going to be a good one.

Fortunately, it was also a quick one to arrange. Now she just had to find the Kentauri and lure him away from his new hobby of glare-at-the-sorcerer. Oh and there was one more thing she needed to do. She glanced over her shoulder at the three guards (Oreius had obliged her by reassigning Iphicles, much to the Satyr's relief) then motioned for Ptah to come forward. The Leopard didn't say a word as he looked up at her with amusement. Alambiel grinned. "When I find the General, you three can make yourselves scarce and take the rest of the day off."

"Yes, Your Highness."

She frowned at him but she had also given up on telling people not to call her that anymore. Instead, she shrugged it off, even though Ptah chuckled, and walked down the corridors leading to the dungeon. She was only a flight of stairs away when she heard a familiar and most unwelcome voice call out, "Your royal highness."

Alambiel closed her eyes, whispering, "Why me?" She didn't dare glance over her shoulder. Any eye contact would only encourage Terrick. The ambassador's nephew was a persistent pest and for whatever reason he, and his brother, Derrick, had managed to persuade their uncle to continue lingering in Cair Paravel even though he surely had duties back in Terebinthia. And she had had enough of forcing herself to be nice to the dimwits, especially Terrick. It was Seventhday and she wasn't going to spend it in the company of that nuisance. Quickening her pace slightly, she hurried to reach the stairs. Guests weren't allowed into the dungeons unless escorted and with a writ of permission at the ready. The guards would turn Terrick away for her and she wouldn't have to deal with the inconvenience to her plan.

Descending the stairs, she heard Terrick's protests already growing fainter as he was being firmly escorted away by one of the guards. She had just reached the landing that led to the lower levels with the high security cells when the heavy oaken door swung open and Oreius emerged. Alambiel smiled as the Kentauri stopped in front of her. "Oh good, I don't have to drag you."

Her husband raised a single eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"You do realize it's Seventhday, yes?" She reached out to take his hands, squeezing lightly before running her hands up to rest on his wrists. "And that we do have the day off from our various duties, yes?"

"Yes but in the pursuit of new information, of the truth-"

"Did he say anything new or different from before?" she interrupted while idly running her fingertips over his leather wristlets. Keeping her eyes on his, she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from giggling as Oreius sighed then the Kentauri shook his head. "Too bad. However, I have a perfect plan for getting your mind off that particular disappointment."

The way his eyes immediately narrowed in suspicion was uncalled for in her personal opinion. "What have you done to my armory?"

"Nothing," she protested, giving him her most innocent look. "In fact, I give you my word that my plan has absolutely nothing to do with your armory . . . or your armor . . . or your swords. This time, anyway."

"I see." He studied her, apparently contemplating what he should or even if he wanted to ask another question.

Alambiel decided to take the decision out of his hands. "Just remember I'm doing this for your own good." Then she yanked on the already loosened ties, pulling Oreius' wristlets free, spun on her heel and ran. Taking the stairs two at a time, she called over her shoulder, "Catch me if you can!"

"Alambiel!" It took a moment before the Kentauri accepted her audacity and she heard him give chase, his iron-shod hooves clattering behind her. "Sepphora!"

She slid around the corner, then leapt over a Badger, as she laughed. "Seventhday! Can't call me that!"

"Sepphora!"

She ran faster. She also employed every dirty trick in her arsenal for avoiding and delaying pursuing Centaurs. Around a bevy of servants carrying large trays and dishes from the kitchen to prepare the largest dining room for a banquet, sliding under a rolled up tapestry being carried by a pair of weavers, leaping over as many small Animals as she could, and taking as many shortcuts that were not designed for Centaurs as possible. She was already halfway down the stairs leading out the palace's main doors when she heard Oreius' bellow again. "Sepphora!"

Alambiel just laughed and gathered her skirts up in one hand as she ran for the gardens. The Kentauri was catching up again now that he no longer had to negotiate the obstacles she had planted in his path. She could hear him coming ever closer. Then the noise of galloping hooves vanished. She tossed a single glance over her shoulder. Oreius wasn't behind her. She stopped then ran through the trees, hopping over two smaller flowerbeds as she did so, to emerge into one of the little glades that rested in the southern gardens. The grass was lush and green and cool in the shade of the gently swaying birch and black elder trees.

Someone slammed into her, a muscular arm wrapping around her waist, as they collapsed to the ground. Alambiel yelped then giggled as she took advantage of his distraction and leapt back to her feet only for his hands to enclose her waist and pull her back down. "Oreius! That's cheating!"

"So is making me pick my way through a crowd of Lemurs and Storks balancing tea trays." He gave her a stern look but she could see the light of amusement in his dark eyes as he pinned her down. "Where are they, you little Minx?"

"They, Husband?"

"My wristlets, Wife. The ones you pilfered." He pulled her hands out from behind her back, frowning slightly when he saw no sign of his wristlets. Then a considering expression appeared as he looked back down at her. "Where have you hidden them?" He arched an eyebrow. "In your bodice perhaps?"

Alambiel laughed. "I haven't stuffed your wristlets down the front of my bodice, I assure you. Only thing you'll find in there is a dagger." She laughed harder when the other eyebrow rose to join its fellow. "That surprises you?"

"It shouldn't." He paused then grinned wickedly. "But perhaps I should check to make sure this is in fact true."

"That I don't have your wristlets or that I have a dagger?"

"Both." He grunted when she kicked at him just hard enough to make him instinctively move to the side. Then Alambiel shoved hard, laughing, as she threw her weight against him even knowing that she was only successful in pushing him over so his shoulders were flat against the ground because Oreius was playing along. He grasped her wrists again. "At least tell me that you have not given them to Solon as a teething toy."

Alambiel threw her head back, laughing. "I promise I have not. I'm also not going to tell you where I hid them. You'll have to earn them back."

"Earn?" he echoed. "And just how am I to earn them? I have already caught you."

"No you haven't." She leapt up, racing around the largest tree, grinning as her Kentauri chased her around it.

They played for another hour before collapsing on the lush grass. Alambiel congratulated herself on succeeding in her mission as Oreius continued to grin even as he pulled her close. He cupped her face, dark eyes searching hers as he asked simply, "Why?"

"Because I have pledged to make you laugh and to tease you and to play with you." She wrapped her fingers around his wrist then twisted so she could plant a kiss against his palm. "And you, a chara, were in desperate need of play. You're worrying too much about all this."

For a moment, she thought he might protest or scold but then he placed a tender kiss against her brow. "Thank you."

Wrapping one arm around his neck, Alambiel pressed her cheek against his. Then she reached back with her free hand and tugged at the bottom edge of her bodice until the wristlets fell free. Meeting Oreius' feigned scowl with an expression of utter innocence, she murmured, "I only said they weren't down the front. You didn't ask about the back."

"You little minx." He laughed and then shook his head. "You shall have to be punished for that, my Milis Cantalach."

She smirked. "Oh? And just how do you intend to punish me?"

"Easily." He tickled behind her knee, making her shriek.

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Oreius chuckled as Alambiel threw her weight against him, pushing him down onto the grass again before the minx nuzzled his neck. He was grateful that she was in a far better mood than he had expected considering how thoroughly he had ruined their Sixthday plans last night. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her close. "I thought you had learned your lesson earlier, my Milis Cantalach. Must I correct your misconceptions again?"

She raised her head and grinned at him. "How? By tickling me again?"

"No, by tossing you into the sea as you deserve." He tightened his grip when she attempted to squirm free then captured her mouth in a kiss. He did not want her to think she was unimportant to him.

Then, as Alambiel stretched to wrap her arms around his neck, he tickled her side. His wife broke the kiss with a shriek of laughter as she rolled off him. "You are cheating!"

"I am taking every advantage in order to even the odds against you, Sepphora."

She was adorable when she pouted. He smiled down at her and had just leaned in to kiss her when he heard a raptor's cry. Oreius surged to his hooves and then moved away from the shelter of the trees to see Skeat in the skies above.

The Red-tailed Hawk swooped down and landed on his raised forearm. "General! Forgive the interruption."

"What has happened?"

Skeat ruffled his wings. "A Hag. Lieutenant Gemon's patrol has captured a Hag."

Oreius scowled. Lieutenant Gemon's patrol should have been but a day's canter from the Cair. "When was she captured?"

"Three hours past. Lieutenant Gemon is bringing her here but he does not think the Hag will survive her wounds."

He nodded curtly, tail flicking as he considered the possible implications of the Fell's presence so close to Cair Paravel, and then ordered, "Wait for me here." The Hawk took to the skies again and Oreius reluctantly returned to where Alambiel was standing next to the trees. "I have to leave."

"Is it bad?"

Oreius hesitated then shook his head. "I do not believe so but I must see what one of the patrols found." He cupped her cheek. "I want you to stay here. Don't wander off otherwise it might be very difficult for me to find you again."

Alambiel forced a little smile. "Any place in particular you want to meet then, Kentauri? So you don't get lost."

"Our garden." He reluctantly stepped back, allowing his fingers to slide until they no longer touched her cheek. "And Alambiel, I will not be late this time. This should take me no more than two hours. We can talk about it then if you wish."

His wife nodded. "Don't stumble into trouble, a chara."

Oreius bowed. "As my lady commands."

He was pleased to see a genuine smile appear on his beloved's face before he turned and galloped toward the main gates. Skeat screeched once above him then the Hawk led him into the woods surrounding Cair Paravel. Lieutenant Gemon's patrol was less than twenty minutes away. The soldiers had gathered around a litter. Oreius skidded to a halt beside it. The Hag was gasping, death's grip adding a glassy sheen to her large eyes, as her talon-tipped fingers clawed at the bulky bandages swathed around her torso. But when she saw him, her beak opened and she croaked a laugh.

He glared down at her. "Why are you here? Who sent you?"

She laughed again and then gasped, "Came . . . for the . . . linchpin."

Oreius leaned down and hauled the Hag up by her filthy grey robes. "Who sent you? Answer!"

But the Hag only laughed once, another raspy croak, and then she drew one shuddering breath before her head lolled to the side. Oreius lowered the body back to the litter and then turned to his lieutenant. "I want a full report before you resume your patrol. Where did you find her?"

"We caught her this morn as she attempted to find a way past a grove of Trees."

Oreius was silent for a moment but the word the Hag had used, 'linchpin,' troubled him. There was only one other person he had heard use that term recently—the sorcerer. Wheeling around, Oreius galloped back to the Cair. He paid no heed to how lather and sweat formed despite the pleasant coolness of the day. He spared a moment to consider sending word to Alambiel that she was stay in their garden but it had yet to be two hours since he left and he was certain she would wait for him. Instead, he charged into the palace and galloped down to the dungeon. He paused only long enough for the door to be opened before he entered and barked, "Who else did you tell about Alambiel being a linchpin?"

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The Wolves were attempting to sneak up on a Gryphon again. Edmund watched with just a hint of trepidation as one of the brothers crept toward Ihbari. He could only thank Aslan that those two pests had chosen a Gryphon well used to their antics . . . he was a slightly safer choice than Bast. The Wolf wagged his tail then leapt forward, yipping with excitement, only to fall back with a yelp as Ihbari whipped around and screeched at him. Then with one powerful downward sweep of his wings, the Gryphon shot into the air.

Edmund suppressed the urge to laugh as the Greyback brothers picked themselves up and then raced pell-mell toward him when Ihbari dove at them. He had no doubt that the Gryphon had just become a huge version of Cair Paravel's Osprey housekeeper in their minds. "Steady now," he said as the Wolves almost knocked him over. "Maybe we should find something other than antagonizing the Gryphons to do today."

Twin pairs of adoring yellow eyes gazed up at him. One of the Wolves let his mouth hang open, pink tongue lolling in a distinct doggy grin, as he wagged his tail. "We can find another spy for you, King Edmund!"

"But not the Badger," his twin reassured Edmund. "We can find anything!"

"Oh all right, why don't you two see if you can find . . . Kat?"

The Wolves yipped and nearly tripped over their own paws and then each other as they rushed to search for their new prey. Edmund waited while the pups ran around the courtyard, noses to the ground, until one of them howled his success. The other Greyback twin barreled over to his brother and then yipped, "Here, King Edmund! This way! This way!"

Jogging toward them, Edmund hoped that Kat wasn't busy because if the Wolves interrupted another rendezvous between her and Oreius, they would all be in trouble and he would most likely be sentenced to visiting the points of the compass. He saw one of the Wolves race off toward the maze and picked up his pace. When he could finally see the entrance of the maze, Edmund groaned, "Oh no."

One of the Wolves, and he would bet anything that it was Remus, had tackled Kat and was currently sprawled on top of her, tail wagging as he howled in victory. "I got you! I got you! Look, King Edmund! Look! I got her! I got her!"

Edmund sighed, "Remus, I didn't tell you to sit on her. Now get off of the Princess Royal and then apologize for knocking her over and sitting on her."

"But, I got her for you. Just like you said, King Edmund!"

Edmund cringed. "I did not tell you to knock her over. You could have just asked her politely if she would wait until I caught up. Now apologize."

The Wolf lowered his grey head and whined as he crept off Kat. "I'm sorry, Your Highness. I just wanted to make sure you stayed."

Kat stood up, brushing the front of her dress off. "No harm done, but don't you dare try that again with any of the other women. They might not be so understanding."

Remus nodded then immediately pressed himself against the side of Edmund's leg, gazing up at him with his heart in his eyes. Edmund lowered his hand to rest on his head, fingers digging into the soft grey fur. He looked back up when Kat cleared her throat. The older woman raised an eyebrow. "So what exactly was so important that your Wolves felt it necessary to stop me in my tracks?"

Edmund flushed. "Well, I just wanted your opinion on a few things. But," he glanced around then lowered his voice, "not here. Can we walk down to the beach?"

"I don't see why not."

They walked in silence even with the Wolves bounding back and forth between him and further down the beach, loudly reporting all the new smells they came across. They had just reached the sand when Remus threw his head back and howled. "Romulus! Romulus! I smell a cat! I smell a cat! Come on!"

Edmund watched in disbelief as his Wolves abandoned all semblance of proper guards and hurled themselves down the beach and up an embankment obscured by bushes. He glanced at Kat who was grinning. "They are getting better."

She laughed and patted his shoulder. "Oh I'll take your word for it, Edmund. Otherwise I would have my doubts."

He scowled and stomped after her as she walked closer to where the waves were gently lapping at the white sand. "About Markus, Kat, do you believe he's changed?"

Kat glanced at him. "Why are you asking?"

"He's not been in the most cooperative moods recently. And the attitude he displays is difficult to reconcile with the claimed change of heart."

She didn't answer right away. Instead, she walked along the beach until she had picked up a stick. Kat looked over her shoulder at him. "I know what Oreius thinks and what Peter thinks but what do you think, Edmund? Don't you recognize the story?"

Edmund frowned, his brow furrowing. "Which story?"

"Not a Narnian one or even an Archenlandish one. One from that Other Place. Surely you must know it."

She turned away slightly and wrote something in the sand with her stick. Stepping closer, Edmund stared at the word, no, the name _Saul_. Then the waves washed it away and Kat wrote a new word, a new name, _Paul_. His frown cleared as he remembered a warm voice that sounded very much like Peter's did now reading out a story and then, after closing the family Bible, he leaned back in his armchair and said, _"And that is how Saul of Tarsus became Paul the Apostle. He went from the worst and most dedicated enemy of Jesus to being one of His best spokesmen."_

Edmund blinked. But Kat didn't seem to notice that his thoughts had drifted from their present surroundings. She had written another word, _traitor_. The waves washed it away and she wrote _King._

"I remember." He nodded then added softly, "I remember, Kat. But I don't want my desire to see another traitor redeemed to endanger my family or my people. I understand Peter and Oreius' caution. Markus is a sorcerer-"

"Was."

"What?"

Kat looked at him and repeated herself, "Was. Technically he was a sorcerer and now he's not one because Aslan has blinded his magic." She wrote _Saul_ in the sand again, waiting for the waves to wash it away. "The same word can't actually be rewritten after it has been washed away. You could write the word again but it would not be the same one as before." Then she wrote _Paul_ once more, only this time she underlined it. "This is what I believe about Markus. I might be proven wrong or it will take a long time to prove me right but we have to give him the chance. For Narnia's sake."

Edmund frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I was led to Markus by a dream that repeated itself every night. The Centaurs believe those kind of dreams are more likely to be prophetic or at least contain a message from Aslan." Kat let the stick fall into the waves as she looked up then shook her head, golden hair swinging against her back. "I am afraid of my dream coming true. I saw only one way to stop it and that is through Markus. Somehow he is tied to this situation too."

"That's what you meant when you told us we need him."

Kat nodded. Edmund barely registered his Wolves howling nearby as his mind raced to analyze the possibilities. "Kat?" He paused when she didn't answer right away then turned to see she was looking toward the bushes where his Wolves were playing. "Kat? What was your dream about?"

"Fire and death. It was odd, I saw-"

He heard the snarl just before someone slammed into him. Edmund surged to his feet, gasping and sputtering as the waves crashed against him. "Kat!"

But it was too late. Two large Werewolves had tackled her. And a third was fast approaching.

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Markus met the Centaur's gaze with one of bemusement. "What do you mean?"

The General grabbed the bars, his knuckles turning white, but his voice was surprisingly calm despite the obvious exertion that caused his horse body to be covered in white lather while sweat glistened on his brow and chest. "A patrol captured a Hag. She said she had come to find the linchpin. Who else did you tell?"

He rose from the cot and began pacing the cell. This was not supposed to be part of the plan. "I don't know."

"You must."

"No, I have referred to Lew's Daughter as a linchpin many times. I remember I described her thusly to Mordad. He may have told his men as well but I do not remember who else I told."

The Centaur slammed a hoof against the floor, the sound echoing through the cells. His dark gaze took on a stern, unforgiving glint as he stonily stated, "You claim you have mended your ways but you never offer any true help or proof. Tell me-"

He cut himself off, turning away as a commotion rose outside the door leading to the rest of the dungeons. Markus stared in curiosity as the door swung open and a young Wolf raced in, yelping, "General Oreius! General Oreius! King Edmund said to get you, to tell you!"

"To tell me what, Romulus?"

"I'm Remus, sir." The Wolf stepped forward into the torchlight and Markus saw the General tense as he took in the way the Wolf's grey fur was now stained red from his muzzle to his front paws. "There were Werewolves! They got the Princess Royal! King Edmund said to tell you! And they killed her too!"

Markus stiffened. The General didn't look at him, didn't react other than his hands clenching into fists, but he still heard the Centaur gasp. Then he snapped, "Show me!"

As the Wolf and Centaur left, Markus could only wonder one thing. Should he have explained more thoroughly why Lew's Daughter was the linchpin? Would that have changed her fate?

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**A/N: Please Read and Review! MUWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA! Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


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